Message-ID: <24343asstr$959566216@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <200005281612.MAA09824@fozzie.webservepro.com> From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat) Subject: {ASSM} She Was a Boy Band Groupie 1/3 (M+F oral anal interr) Date: Sun, 28 May 2000 22:10:16 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, english, dennyw This work contains graphic depictions of sex acts. Please do not continue if this makes you uncomfortable, or violates laws in your part of the world. This story is Copyright 2000 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com) ---------------------------------------------------------------------- She Was A Boy Band Groupie "My advice is, no one goes out and no one comes in," Agent Gerald Maytag said. The faces of the young men scattered around the hotel suite dropped. "That is such bullshit!" one declared. It was Josh Cynwood, called JC most of the time. "Yeah, what the fuck is this?" asked Ricky Derringer. Like JC he was in his early twenties, and they shared the same short fashionable haircut, gelled and brushed carefully to make it look like they just got out of bed. But JC wore excessively baggy jeans and an LA Kings hockey sweater, while Derringer favored a tighter look: black leather pants and tight fitting black t-shirt. A loose fitting gold chain hung at Derringer's wrist and caught the light of the room as he raised his arms in argument. "I mean, we're not under arrest, right?" "No," Agent Heather Stanton admitted. "You're not." "Fuckin' A," JC announced. "I'm 5000. How 'bout you, Brick?" Jason Brickhouse ran a dark hand over his short kinky hair in thought. He licked his lips and stood up. "Yeah, man, this hotel is whack. Let's do this town." "Sit down, JC! You too, Brick." The voice belonged to Wade De Martin, the oldest member of "4 Players" and some said the most talented. "You're gonna go along with this shit, Wade D?" asked Derringer. "I think we should at least listen to why they think we need to stay here tonight." Wade gestured around the private suite as if it were the proverbial last place on earth. Maytag took that as his cue to speak, but he was interrupted by the ring of a cell phone. Everyone in the suite instinctively reached for their pocket, but it was JC that spoke. "'Sup," he announced in a detached voice that didn't match the speed with which he answered the phone. "Oh, shit, G, wassup?" JC grew more involved with his conversation, and Maytag wondered if he should continue his explanation or wait. Wade noticed. "He'll be on that thing all night," he said. "Just ignore him." "First of all," Maytag began, "now that Johnny O is dead we have to take these threats seriously." "I thought he OD'd?" Derringer asked. "It certainly looks that way," Agent Stanton said. "But Maytag and I haven't seen the coroner's report yet, and we don't want to take any chances." "Oh, shit!" JC exclaimed into his mobile phone. "I'm feelin' ya, brother! I am feeling you!" Ignoring JC, Maytag added, "Our concern is especially high since you received that note this morning." He was referring to a letter that arrived for them at the hotel. It was a page from a hardcore pornographic magazine depicting a man and woman having sex. The man's head was cut out of the picture and taped elsewhere on the page, surrounded in red ink. A caption has been added as well: "It Just Isn't Worth It." JC ended the call and looked over at Wade. "We cool? Cuz I gots to jet." "It looks like we're not going anywhere," Wade said. "Fuck that, Wade D," JC said. "I can't have this man. We're up here, and the hotties are down there." "Yeah, man," added Derringer. "This is bullshit. Why can't you just follow us like real bodyguards?" "We don't have the manpower," Maytag admitted. "Why not let people come up here?" Jason Brickhouse asked. "We can let crew members in," Stanton replied. "We've done background checks for them." "Listen, lady," Derringer said, "I am not going to stay up here and party with the fuckin' roadies." "Seriously, yo," JC said flashing his hands in front of him as if he were juggling his words. "I have to get laid tonight." "You may want to reconsider partying with the roadies, then," Maytag said. JC's phone rang again, and he answered it with the same "'Sup" greeting as before. "Maybe you can stick the phone in your pocket and put it on vibrate mode," Stanton suggested. The discussion was over. All 4 One was confined to the hotel suite. Maytag and Stanton left the suite as very unpopular figures. Standing by the bank of elevators, Maytag said "I give them an hour before they try to talk us into letting them go out." Stanton snorted. "Wanna bet? I say they don't last fifteen minutes." "No bet," Maytag said with his palms upraised. "I suspect before the night is over we may have to bribe them or handcuff them to keep them from leaving." While they waited for the inevitable interruption, the two agents discussed the death of John Osage, the recording artist and teen idol known as Johnny O. He was found dead in his hotel room, apparently from a drug overdose. Yet everyone from Johnny O's agent to his Zen mentor claimed he never touched narcotics. No drug paraphernalia was found at the scene. If it was homicide, it was a mystery how the deed was done. "I think a forced injection is out of the question," Stanton said. Maytag ran a hand through his hair. "Agreed. No sign of struggle at the scene, no obvious marks on the body." "Could be poison," Stanton suggested. "Someone could have tainted his food, maybe slipped something in his drink." "We won't know anything until the toxicology report comes back," Maytag said. "Besides, it may have nothing to do with our case. It may just be coincidence." Wade interrupted them. "I hope you don't mind," he said. "I just wanted some fresh air." Maytag checked his watch. "I would have won." Wade looked confused. "Nothing," Stanton said. "Everything OK in there?" "Yeah," Wade answered. "They ordered some pay-per-view movie." "Anything good?" Stanton asked. "Uh," Wade stammered. "'The Bare Witch Project.' It's a porno." Maytag raised his eyebrows. "I think this may be the first case in history where the porn spoof of a movie actually has the higher budget! I have to get a look at this. What do you say, Stanton?" "I think I'll skip this one," she said. "I already read the book." "Your choice. How about you, Wade?" "Nah, I'm cool," he answered as Maytag left the hall. His words and manners hung as easily as the silk shirt that flowed over his torso and swayed loose outside his trousers. Wade wore no jewelry save a wristwatch, and his hair was neat but stylish. Other than Stanton he was the only one in the hall, but she had the feeling he would stand out no matter how many people were around. There was something about him, a presence. It inspired a question. "So," Stanton began. "Rumors are that you may leave the group?" For a moment Wade seemed surprised, but his easy smile returned. "I thought we might have a nice little conversation," he said. "And now you sound like a reporter." "I'm sorry," Stanton replied. "That just popped out." "No problem, I was just teasing." he assured her. "But those rumors are going around and it's tough to answer the same questions all the time." "I apologize," Stanton said again. "Forget I even said that." Wade studied her; his dark eyes made contact with her bright blues. "Actually, I don't mind. In fact it might be nice to talk about this with someone who won't write an article about it or go and talk to our agent about it. And you wouldn't do that, would you Agent Stanton?" He smiled again, broadly, revealing that he had dimples. "Please," she said. "Call me Heather." "Heather," he repeated with a mellifluous voice that helped sell one million albums. He flashed his broad smile. Wade went on to explain that he liked all the guys in the band, that they grew up together. Now that they were successful, when they should be happiest together, reporters and agents kept trying to split them apart. There was tension where there was none before. "Between you and Derringer," Stanton remarked. "You noticed, huh?" Stanton nodded her head. "But JC and Brickhouse seem to be on your side. They listened when you told them to stay put." "It's the same thing as Derringer," Wade replied. "They think I'm going to go solo. But instead of acting hostile like Derringer, they go along with what I want - not to rock the boat, y'know. Sometimes they side with him, though. Like the next argument, probably. We should change the name of the band from 4 Players to something like 3 Players Against One. That's what it feels like sometimes." The conversation drifted to less serious matters. It moved slow and easy, circling in an eddy sometimes around one topic, bubbling with laughter before floating on to a new topic. An hour went by without either realizing it. They were so involved in their dialogue that Maytag's entrance seemed a sudden invasion. "You know, bad lighting is usually a problem with porn, but there was something really sexy about flashlights in the forest." "Good one?" Wade asked. "I've seen much worse," Maytag said. "Stanton can vouch for that." She ignored the request for comments. "Everything still OK in there?" "They started to hit the mini-bar. Maybe a little restless, but not so bad." "I better head back in," Wade said. "Don't want anyone to think I wandered off." "I'll come with you," Stanton said. As an afterthought she added, "You OK out here Maytag?" "No problem," he answered. "Maybe you can help them decide on the next one. It's either 'Wet Nurse 3' or 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Give Head.'" "Oh, I love costume dramas," Stanton said as they went from the hall to the suite. Inside the suite, beer cans littered the coffee table. Jason Brickhouse looked up from his seat on the sofa. "Hey, Wade's back." JC looked back over his shoulder. "Wade D, man, you just missed like the worst fuckin' porno ever. There was these three smokin' hotties but you couldn't see shit because they kept using flashlights and shit." Derringer watched as Stanton followed behind Wade. He took a sip from his beer, then gestured to Stanton. "Hey, Wade, I hope you brought enough for everyone." "What was that?" Wade asked. He took a step toward Derringer. Brickhouse looked away from the television and watched Derringer and Wade intently. JC stood up from his chair. Stanton gauged her distance from Derringer and took a step closer herself. "Wade," she said, "That was just a joke." Derringer did not move his gaze from Wade. "Yeah, Wade. Just a joke. Now you and Yoko can continue your little party while the three of us sit here with our thumbs up our ass." This was it, Stanton thought. The playboy musicians suffered through two hours of hyper cabin fever, drank a bit too much, and now the fight was going to break out. Although she had confidence in her fighting ability, she knew this was a no win situation. Stanton guessed that if she held back Wade then Derringer would attack anyway. Most likely JC or Brickhouse would jump in, and the hotel suite would end up taking the brunt of the damage. If she accosted Derringer, someone other than Wade would jump in, Wade would defend her, and the result would be the same. Maytag might help, but it was too late to fetch him. Should he stumble in on his own, things might get better, or worse. No matter which we she imagined it, the calculus added to hotel damage, a trip to the hospital, and a lot of explaining to do in the morning. Unless... "I don't think there's any need to fight over me," Stanton said. Derringer and Wade continued their staring contest. "Who said anything about you?" Derringer asked. "Why you did, Derringer," Stanton replied, moving behind him. She slinked over to the couch and sat down, taking in an eyeful of JC and Brickhouse before speaking again. "And in answer to your question, I think there's plenty of me for everyone." Derringer turned part way to face her. "Is that so?" "Don't let him bully you, Heather," Wade said. That brought Derringer's attention back to Wade. "So we're on a first name basis, huh, Wade?" "You can call me Heather, too, if you like, Derringer." "So, what are you like some sort of groupie now?" asked JC. "I wouldn't go that far," Stanton said. "After all, you haven't given me any reason to want to stay here and pass the time with you." "Like cash?" JC asked. Brickhouse slapped JC on the arm hard enough to knock him off balance. "Don't be an asshole, JC!" "What did I say?" JC demanded. "JC," Derringer said, "If you don't get your foot out of your mouth I'm gonna send my fist in there to take it out for you." Derringer turned his attention back to Stanton. "Now you were saying?" "I wasn't saying anything," Stanton replied. "I was hinting." "And what were you hinting at?" Brickhouse asked in his deep bass voice, his best Barry White imitation. He acted as if he knew the answer to his question already. "That I could be seduced," Stanton said. "You don't have to do this," Wade said. His face showed his concern. Stanton tried to dispel his doubts with a look. When her blue eyes melted away half his worry, she licked at the side of her lips and attacked the remainder. "Maybe I'd like to be seduced," she said. JC ignored the advice of his friends and asked, "Just how are we supposed to do that?" "Well, you guys sing," Stanton said with equal bluntness. "Why not serenade me?" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her, waiting for their response. The boys looked at one another, and Wade D gestured with his hands for them to gather around him. They huddled and listened while he whispered. Heads began nodding in agreement. Derringer started to leave the huddle, but Wade D. reeled him back to the group. "We're going to start like this," he said. Aside from JC's outburst, it was the only bit of their conference that Stanton heard. She leaned back in her chair without knowing what to expect. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+