Read Part 1
We were really decked out when the big night arrived. I was wearing a black silk shirt, leather sport coat and a nice pair of black jeans plus my cowboy boots. Jenny Sue had her hair done, and she ware a red crushed velvet jacket over a studded leather bra and tight leather jeans atop the tallest heels I’d ever seen. I asked how she intended to dance in those and she just looked at me like I was from another planet.
Since my Focus had four doors and I was voted most-likely-to-remain-sober I became the designated driver. We headed out to pick up Ellen and her date. When we got there I saw an Ellen I'd never seen before. First of all she wore makeup, with red lipstick so bright it could blind a prairie dog and plenty of makeup accentuating her naturally pale complexion. She wore heels and a pair of jeans so tight you could tell she'd had a brazilian that very morning. To top it all off she wore a black bustier that she was practically popping out of. Finally, I began to understand what the King saw in her, but major cleavage does that for a girl. And then she introduced her date as Skip.
Skip was a tall blond, slender guy with perfect skin and one of those slightly unshaved faces that so many women seem to like from a safe distance. He was dressed in jeans, jeans shirt and a buckskin jacket, And he reeked. “Maybe I ought to drive, “ he suggested while shaking my hand. “I’ve got a Tahoe and that car of yours looks mighty small.”
“It’s bigger inside then it looks. Besides, it’s already warm.” Normally I might have accepted the offer but the gentle odor of bourbon and reefer combined with mild swaying suggested Skip had spent the last couple hours in face time with his Old Granddad. He wasn’t too sloppy yet, but if he was happy now he’d be downright smashed before the concert ended.
At least he didn’t make a fuss. “That’s cool man. I never mind riding in the backseat with a lady.” And he led Ellen into the seat by the butt, which she didn’t seem to mind. A minute later he pulled a flask from his pocket and started passing it. “Drink it now, because they’ll grab it at the door.” The ladies drank but I passed it by, deciding somebody might need their wits about them.
“So what do you do man?”
“I’m a sales representative for a construction equipment supplier.”
“I thought they’d give you bigger car than this.”
“I’d be happy if they just gave me a car.”
“And this is all you could afford?”
“You ever get divorced, Skip?”
“Oh. You must need this whiskey more than I do.” And he offered his flask.
“Not since I hooked up with Jenny Sue.” And I felt her lips on my cheek and her hand on my thigh. It occurred to me that an honest answer might actually pass as smooth.
The Odeon was named after Greek Theaters but the only thing Greek about it was the ouzo in the bar well and a couple fake plaster columns. The architecture exemplified early American strip mall, only there wasn’t much strip if you didn't count the patrons. It was ugly, but there was plenty of parking and when the interior is all basic black and the lighting minimal you can't see enough to criticize anyway. Ellen joined Skip in pounding them while Jenny Sue stuck to her usual lite beer and I enjoyed a boring but responsible decaf. Skip started off by buying us all double shots, and didn’t seem disappointed when he had to drink mine for me. And if he had needed even the first double shot that would have been fine, but he was already swaying a touch and taking liberties with Ellen, and she got more annoyed as he got drunker. While I think she had hoped to bag Skip, she figured hot spot reconnaissance could wait at least until the show and with a man who was no drunker than she. Still, she didn’t put up much of a fuss and shared his mission to get stoned. They were buying and she wanted her money’s worth.
“So you’re into construction equipment, Chris. Do you sell pile drivers?” he asked leering at Ellen, who giggled because for once she wasn’t fighting off roaming fingers.
“I’m involved with all sorts of stuff. I hear you’re chief mechanic at that Sunoco.”
“Yeah, I’m on a mission for your transmission. Or at least that’s the boss’s latest slogan.”
"Sounds like your boss is quite a character.”
“He’s an asshole.”
Ellen giggled. “The world is full of assholes! Damned good song too.”
Nothing like music with a positive, uplifting message.
“Sure is,” said Skip while reaching for Ellen’s bottom.
Ellen giggled and fought him off. “You don’t know me nearly well enough for that. At least not yet.”
I just sat there and wondered if everyone except my ex-wife was a pervert, and thanked my lucky stars I’d been born into such a wondrous age. And I decided to change the subject. “What’s your favorite Spotted Shorts song?”
“Boss Strangler,” said Ellen.
“That would be the theme for a lot of places I’ve worked for. How about you Jenny Sue?”
"I’m into ‘Sorority Porn Star’. The beat and the sax bits are the best.” We all agreed that was a good one.
“There are too many to pick,” slurred Skip as he reached for another whiskey. He was here for the party. “I need to go to the bathroom.” And he stood up without warning and headed for the head.
“Go with him,” said Jenny Sue, “Make sure he makes it.” I wanted to protest that going to the john in a group just wasn’t a guy thing, but I realized the girls wanted to gossip and so I took my leave and headed over to the bar. I got in line to buy a round of drinks for the table. The bar was filling up, and the bartenders, mostly attractive young women in scoop tops with a raft of tattoos and piercings, when I spotted a tall, slender woman with short dark hair and tight white dress. I felt a cold chill. Then I she turned around and I knew. She was my ex-wife, She Who Sits at the Right Hand of Satan.
“Hello Chris. I see you’re finally dating at your true station.”
“Yeah, I thought she’s a step up too! So what are you doing here?”
“I’m here with Armondo “ She pointed at a tall, olive skinned man in a white suit who out-GQ’d most issues of GQ. His suit was white silk, and cut in that simple unadorned kind of suit that spoke of real quality. And therefore real money. No wonder my ex liked him. “Armondo recently purchased the Spotted Shorts’ record label. Oh, but I forgot you aren’t really interested in money, are you?”
“A good thing as my lawyer has what you didn’t get.”
She flashed a rather large diamond. “He’s the reason I gave you so much in the settlement.”
"Which of our proposed settlements are you referring to?” And I turned around and walked away. I think I must have been steaming when I returned to the table because both Ellen and Jenny Sue turned around to watch me approach.” And they didn’t look happy.
“Who was that woman you were talking to?”
“My ex- wife.”
“That’s her? The one who chucked nine different settlements at the last minute? ” said Jenny Sue. Ellen craned her head for another gawk.
“She isn’t that good looking.”
I wasn’t’ sure if cutting on Stacy made me feel good or bad. Especially as it wasn’t true. My ex always turned heads even if it was more preppy pretty than the earthy voluptuousness so many craved. She just had something. Until you got to know her. “Look, I just don’t want to talk about her.”
“I can bet that. Is that guy her boyfriend.’
“He looks like the kind of guy who has never gotten dirty in his life.”
“We’ll, if he’s marrying Stacy he won’t be doing much dirty either.”
“Oh, she doesn’t swing that way?”
“She doesn’t swing at all.”
“Rich guys ought to have better taste.” Ellen crooked her finger and Jenny Sue leaned forward for a quick planning session. Thirty seconds later Ellen was sitting to my other side and sitting really close at that. Jenny Sue closed up a bit too. I felt Ellen’s tongue on my ear.”
“What are you doing?”
Jenny Sue started kissing my neck. “Letting her know you’ve upgraded stud. After all, she has only one man.”
I almost replied that was merciful for other men, but I didn’t. Truth is I rather liked being pawed by two women, even if one of them was Ellen. It also provided my first hint Ellen possessed a rather skilled tongue. I decided that Skip had probably drunk himself out of a very good time.
Right as Ellen was licking the backside of my left ear the lights dropped and the warm-up band took the stage. Tongues licking me retired to their respective mouths. Time for the serious business of listening. And drinking. The opening was an all-girl group called the Easter Bunnies though they didn’t wear ears or look dress like Playboy bunnies. But they did rock pretty hard, and their lyrics made sense. The crowd either ignored them or asked to see their tits but I enjoyed their music. Their set was short and when the lights came back up Skip had not returned. Ellen didn’t seem to notice, but I decided to go looking for her date. I found him hitting on the bartenders. All of them, which proved him an equal-opportunity lech. He came along quietly, but it was clear he wouldn’t last long. I got him in his chair and he sort of leaned over on Ellen’s shoulder and started snoring.
“You sure know how to pick them,” teased Jenny Sue.”
“He was never drunk when he fixed my car! How was I to know he’s a lush? With my luck, I ought to become a dyke! “
I reached out and took Ellen’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. You’re favorite band will be on soon, and we’re having a good time. He’s the loser, not you.”
“I’m not here for a pity party.”
“Hey, your tongues left me in such a good mood, I figured I'd commit an act of senseless kindness.”
Ellen grimaced. “Then use your tongue! Sympathy won’t get you anywhere with me. I take action and I want a man of action.”
Jenny Sue wrapped her arms around me, “He’s a man of action when it counts.” And she ran her tongue over her lips suggestively.
“Are you saying he likes being blown, because all men like a good header.”
“Are you saying you don’t like having your hair grabbed and taken?”
Ellen whistled. “Now that’s more like it. Shame Skip couldn’t stick around for the grand finale.”
“Drunks don’t do it very well anyway. Chris is the only guy I know who can eat pussy ploughed.”
“Let’s get him drunk so we can take advantage of him!”
“Ellen, he’s my boyfriend!”
“So you’ve told me. But if I’m going dyke you at least ought to meet me halfway.” Ellen reached out to pinch my nose. “Don’t worry, you’re safe for now. Now where’s my drink. Might as well get drunk if I can’t get laid. And Skip’s still buying.” She reached into his pocket to with raw his money clip and peel off a couple twenties. “Anybody else thirsty?”
“Jenny, does your boyfriend ever get drunk?”
“He drinks, Ellen, But he’s here to get us home safely.”
“Safety is totally overrated.” And Ellen headed back to the bar.
I turned to Jenny Sue and before I knew it she’d leaned over to plant me a big kiss with a lot of tongue. ‘What was that for.”
“Ellen may not be getting laid tonight, but I am.”
“Waco sounds good. But If I can’t bang him I guess I’ll have to settle for my designated driver.” And she kissed me again. And that led to a short, hot bout of tongue hockey.
I felt someone bump my shoulder. It was Ellen trying to look fierce. “Here’s your freaking coffee! You two are disgusting! At least get naked.“ She passed out drinks and I noticed she’d bought herself two double shots.
“Thank you Ellen, though the coffee isn’t half so hot as Jenny Sue.” And I could feel my lady squeeze my arm.
Then Ellen leaned over and whispered, “Don’t look know but your ex-wife and her piggy-bank are headed our way.” Sure enough she was. Stacy strode up, gave us a good looking-over giving mixed with her most plastic smile. She waited until we were all looking at her before speaking. “Hi, I’m Chris’s ex-wife Stacy!”
Skip opened his eyes enough to mumble something and we all sort of said hi.
“So what brings you over here, Stace?”
“Chris, don’t be catty. Now that we’re divorced there’s nothing to stop us from being friends, is there?”
Nothing other than years of experience! Still, I kept my true thoughts to myself. “Stacy, this is Ellen and to my right is Jenny Sue, and that’s Skip over there taking leave of his consciousness.”
“Charmed.” Her voice could have frozen a volcano. “I wanted you all to meet my fiancé Armonodo. Did you know that Armondo just purchased Serial Diva records?” Armondo sort of bowed his head but you could see he found the whole thing as awkward.
“I think you mentioned that earlier.”
“Yes, but I thought your friends would like to know.” Then she pressed herself tight against him and beamed at him, so we'd all know how happy she felt at bagging a guy who was both rich and good-looking.
Figuring he needed to change the subject Armondo asked, “Are you fans of the Spotted Shorts?”
Ellen had her reply ready. “I’m their biggest fan ever, especially Waco. I’d really love to meet him. In fact, I I’d really like to meet the band.” And her eyes narrowed and it occurred to me that what Ellen really wanted was to meat the band.
Stacy answered for him. “I’d love to help you, but you know how finicky musicians are. They have quite an entourage and the dressing rooms are so tiny. But I’ll try to get you some autographed pictures.”
“That would be sweet of you,” said Ellen, and batted her eyes like a real coquette. “That’s quite a stud you have there.”
“He certainly is.” She Satan licked her lips to make me feel inadequate.
“You’re kind of pretty too, and classy. But can I tell you something just between us girls?”
“Oh, I’m sure you can say anything to me in front of my fiancé.”
“I can see you like this guy, and would like to hang on to him, but let me let you in on a little secret: guys like tits.”
“A bit of silicone could really pack out that bra there.”
“Implants? Why would I want implants?”
“Because they make you hot and they’re so natural. Feel for yourself.” And she took Stacy’s hand and shoved it inside her top. “See how firm they feel, and so full. And my nipples still get pokey! But I can tell that you’ve touched a woman before. “ Ellen winked at Stacy like she’d like her to keep on fondling.
Of course that didn’t happen. Stacy yanked her fingers out of Ellen’s top, pulling a boob out with her. And I could see a sly grin on Armondo’s face like he’d gotten a giggle, and a bit of a chub, out of the whole thing. Stacy checked his face out to see how much leeway she had before responding.
“It’s been charming meeting you all, but Armondo and I need to head backstage. Toodle-oo”
“Toodle-oo to you-sweet cheeks,” said Ellen.
I have no idea how I kept a straight face until they retreated a safe distance.
“I can’t believe you did that Ellen. But I love you for it.”
“Yeah, well I can’t believe you fucked her. What a mega-bitch!” Ellen shook her head as she pushed her boob back in her top.”
“Her boyfriend enjoyed the show,” said Jenny Sue. “Bet he’s gonna want a three-way now.”
“Good luck. Stacy doesn’t even like giving out blow-jobs. On the other hand, he’s rich.”
“Think she’ll blow him for money?”
“Right up through the honeymoon.”
“What a bitch. I’ve never seen anyone so deserving of a dry one up the butt. Of course I’d like a big one myself tonight if my date were conscious.” She gently elbowed Skip who rolled his head in agreement. “Sucker! You could have had the time of your life tonight. “
Jenny Sue poked me in the ribs. “Looks like the freak show has just begun.”
We looked where she pointed and who should we see heading our way but Miko dressed in her typical formal attire: fuck-me stiletto heels, fishnet stockings, a the shortest imaginable tartan wool skirt and an officially authorized Spotted Shorts halter top that she was bursting out of. She had a guy with her, a tall skinny guy with something of a hair-lip and a weak chin, but dressed in silk shirt and black leather. He had a gold chain around his neck that would make Shaft jealous. My gut told me he was her pimp. Or a wannabe.
“Hi, didn’t I see you guys at the King’s funeral?”
Once again Jenny Sue and Ellen slipped back into their faked hospitality mode. “Yes, we were there grieving for our lover.”
“You were banging him too? Gee, I sort of though you were with that guy there.” By which she meant me.
“Not then. I am now.”
“Oh, well he’s almost cute. This is my web developer Dean.”
I stuck out my hand in a neighborly way and he shook it with real enthusiasm, the sort you get from a guy who isn’t sure who he needs to impress. “Your manager? What do you do . . . Is it Miko?”
“It’s Miko Wylde, at least that’s her professional name,” said Dean. “I thought of it. We’ve been putting together a web site for her that ought to rake in big bucks and boost her film career. “
“Are you making movies now?”
“Well, not yet but we’re close to signing a contract with Woody Videos. We’re headed to Vegas next weekend for a screen test.”
“I’m going to be a star!” You can bet Miko believed that too.
“How wonderful. So what brings you out here?”
“Dean thinks it would do me good if I could get some pictures taken with the Spotted Shorts. You know what the Tommy Lee video did for Pamela Anderson’s career.”
Nobody said a thing for a few seconds as we digested that particular piece of logic.
“I know where you can get a leg up,” said Jenny Sue, her eyes twinkling.
“I sure do. The owner of Serial Diva records is here tonight with his fiancé.”
“No shit? That’s really cool of you,” said Dean, who seemed just bright enough to light up a glove compartment. “Where?”
See that guy over there in silk and the woman next to her?”
“The preppy bitch in the tight dress?”
“That’s them. They’re out to see the Shorts and they can get you backstage. Only there’s something you ought to know. You see she’s really bi and he likes to watch.”
“Cool,” said Dean.
“You swing that way Miko?” asked Ellen, batting her eyes.
“I do if it will make me famous.”
“Cool. Now, you have to understand she’s a subbie and she likes to play hard to get.”
“Oh, yeah I know some guys like that. Can’t get it up until you spank their ass a bit.” Miko pantomimed spanking a kneeling man.
“I don’t know if I’d spank her, but you might want to give her a whole bunch of tongue.”
“I’ll lick her like a lollipop. You think the Spotted Shorts might go for that?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
“Cool! Thanks!” Miko and Dean headed off to stalk big game.
“You two are positively evil,” I told them.’
“Don’t you just love it” said Jenny Sue.
It was about them that Miko and her boyfriend made it over to where Armondo and She Satan were sitting. Dean started out doing the talking and you could see Armondo’s jaw dropping by inches. And then Miko grabbed Stacy and started snogging her and feeling her tits. That lasted for about four seconds before Stacy was able to push her away. My ex-wife’s face was red as a beet. Miko didn’t miss a beat. She straddled Stacy’s chair and pulled up her skirt giving my ex-wife a close look at her cooter. My ex-wife’s face went from red to pale to red again in the drop of a hat. Then Miko turned to give Armondo a good crotch shot as well.
I couldn’t take it any more and buried my face in Jenny Sue’s hair so I wouldn’t see any more and perhaps stop laughing before my ribs parted.
“Could anything have been more perfect?” said Jenny Sue between fits of giggling. Nailing She Satan and Superslut at the same time!”
Ellen agreed. “That more than makes up for Skip passing out. Sucker. She grabbed another twenty from his money clip.”
“Hey, that’s enough there, on all counts.” I said.
Ellen laughed? ‘What’s the matter? Are you suddenly feeling sorry for that bitch?”
“Not exactly sorry, but right now it’s funny but if it goes farther it might get ugly. Armondo’s got a lot more money than we do, he could make life unpleasant if he wants.”
”Fuck Armondo.” Ellen shook her head then poured back another shot. ”It’s his fault for proposing to that bitch. And I haven’t got all that much to lose. As far as Skip goes, all he’s done is paid off the tickets. We’re even now. But tell you what, I’ll buy an extra shot for him next time just in case he wakes up.”
“He isn’t likely to drink it.”
“And I’m not likely to let it go to waste.”
I had to agree that would have been wasteful. Ellen bounced back in a couple minutes and handed us our drinks, informing us it was time to head for the pit.
I wasn’t that excited by the idea. “There’s a whole lot of people on the floor already.”
Haven’t you ever been in a mosh pit? It’s a tribal thing.” Ellen poured down her drinks in a large gulps then pulled us to our feet and out onto the floor. “Can’t be long now. The music has changed.”
I thought about it. Previously they’d been playing hardcore. Now the PA was playing Ravel’s Bolero, an abrupt change of pace if there ever was one for a piece where the melody never really changes. Ellen leaned over to us. “When they get to ‘Kill the Wabbit’ the gig is on!” And she whooped like she was about to scalp Custer.
Somehow I had a hard time figuring how a band whose biggest hit was Back Door Girl would use Ravel and Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries for opening themes, but I’m no musicologist. Still, it seemed that most of the audience recognized what was going on and they started shoving us around as Bolero wound up and faded into Wagner. I felt like Elmer Fudd on a wabbit hunt out there because people were pushing us around. You almost felt like throwing elbows would be the socially appropriate thing. Jenny Sue hung close to me while Ellen pushed ahead between a group of college boys who immediately switched form bashing to pelvic thrusting in her general direction, her being an unattached female in a crowd where women were a distinct minority. Right as the wabbit was about to begin who should walk out on stage but Armondo with She Who Sits on the Right Hand of Satan on his arm.
Now there was something going on that none of us realized at the time, namely that the Spotted Shorts weren’t very happy with their record contract. They’d been discovered when they downright dirt poor and starving. A contract offer was so exciting they signed everything the label rep asked them too. Which meant that Serial Diva now owned their immortal souls and first-born child. Granted the company had put a bunch of money into promoting the Shorts but when you make an college hit or three most people start thinking about beachfront property in Malibu over a condo in Gary, Indiana. Sensing money they hadn’t yet earned the Shorts wanted out of their contract. Of course lots of artists want out of their contract when they discover they aren’t rich yet, or more likely, super rich. Prince stopped calling himself Prince as part of a fight with a record company. It’s natural. But the Shorts were perhaps a bit more direct than the Artist with the unpronounceable symbol. Nor as smart. They’d all worked at crappy jobs for years while struggling to master their craft and they’d all learned that the best and sometimes the only way to get fired is to be an asshole on the job. With the new owner and his hoity-toity girlfriend making an appearance tonight seemed like as good a night as any. Besides, being an asshole in public gets publicity. We didn’t know it yet, but the Spotted Shorts had decided to put on a concert like no other in their history, one that would make them infamous and make their fans lie and claim they’d been there.
Armondo let Stacy take the mic, and she stepped forward, “Thank you, Thank you,” Stacy acted like the shouting was for her. “And now I’d like to present Serial Diva recording artists, the Spotted Shorts!” And she turned and started clapping like this was a retirement banquet. Only the Shorts weren’t settling for a gold watch. Stacy retired stage right, but not very far off stage, close enough everyone could still see her. I saw the guitarist glare at her as he took the stage.
Of course, I was probably the only person who noticed her. The Shorts all came out wearing nothing but tighty whities. The guitarist, a slight man with skin the color of milk chocolate and full scale ‘fro started pounding out chords with the volume turned to ‘bleed’. The sax player came out next wearing a tie, vest and a bowler besides his BVDs. The drummer was an oriental guy wearing glasses Elton John might Envy. The bass player accessorized with an Aussie hat and wife-beaters. Each one had a nice big brown spot in the back of his shorts.
Then Waco strode to the stage. He alone had not chosen to not to wear undies. Instead he chose cowboy boots, a ten-gallon hat and a sock. That’s right, he protected his most private area with one purple argyle sock. Stacy's eyes were the size of buckeyes when the Shorts came marching in.
Waco strode right for the microphone. “It really sucks to be here!” he yelled, and the crowd started cheering. Then the sax started dancing and the guitar player started out the chunky chords from their song ‘Spaghetti-O Spew’.
I liked them. The band was tight and technically savvy. When I could understand them, the lyrics displayed a biting wit most such bands couldn’t dream of. The beat moved me. Apparently my ex-wife liked them too, as I could see her boogieing far enough out on the stage someone ought to have given her a tambourine.
But I didn’t like being in the mosh pit. Fact is, you have to defend your spot. It’s sort of like a shoving match for a place on the last lifeboat. People try to climb on top. You’re expected to hold them up there and if you don’t you can get kicked in the head. All of that means you spend more attention holding your position and trying not to get kicked than you do listening to the music. Plus you can’t see much unless you’re fairly tall, which Jenny Sue is not. It wasn’t long before I led her out of the pit, and to my relief she didn’t object. When we found a spot where we could actually see she seemed relieved and rubbed up against me in a most appealing way.
I tried to keep track of Ellen as she moved gently across the crowd. It occurred to me that she was doing something akin to body surfing, provided you didn’t mind a few hundred strange hands pawing you.
And so it went for three or four songs with my ex-wife still a bit too close to the action. And then the Shorts got to the introduction of their song 'Groupie Call'. Now I wasn’t enough of a fan to pick up the changes right off, but Jenny Sue did and started bouncing around. I couldn’t make out much of the lyrics but the chorus amounted to a call for a spanking, and I could see several women nearby me bending over to offer up their butts. Even Jenny Sue did it, and as she aimed her pooper at me I gave her a couple tentative whacks. When I did she stood up and shouted in my ear, “Do you call that a spanking?” So the next tine she bent over I let her have a bit. Damned if she didn’t seem to like it too.
Of course my ex-wife Stacy was still crowding the stage, although it did seem like she wasn’t quite so interested in the scene as before. Fact is I think she felt kind of put off by all the lewd talk, which was utterly normal for her. It was then when the Shorts got to their bridge, which was mostly an interplay between the lead guitarist and the sax man. Waco walked to the amp, took a swig of scotch and then walked right over to Stacy and dragged my ex onstage.
For a moment she was thrilled and smoothed out her hair. Then Waco roared he wanted to show us the biggest groupie of them all and yanked her skirt up over her waist.
It was right then I realized how much this Armondo guy meant to her. Not only had she forsaken panties, but she’d shaved, with her thin pink lips clearly visible to anyone and everyone. She turned six shades of red which only got worse when Waco thrust his sock-full at her.
Stacy ran off the stage, and I’d never seen her move so fast. Not that I blamed her. Waco began to chant, “Love ‘em, leave ‘em, spank them as you breed them” while thrusting his sock at everyone.“
For the entire show various ‘mosh surfiers’ had bounced on to the stage, and usually spent a half second hamming for the crowd. And right at this moment it became Ellen’s moment to bounce on the stage. Only she didn’t mug for the crowd like the others. She knelt down in front of Waco and opened her mouth real wide. Then she licked her lips in case anyone missed the point.
Waco took the bait. Right there in front of God and everyone He walked over to her and shoved his stuffed sock in her mouth. Now I can’t imagine it being much fun sucking on a piece of purple argyle even if it had Kate Beckensale’s naughty bits inside but Ellen gave it her best. And after a few slurps the sock was pulled off and Ellen got to taste the meat.
The crowd lost it. People were climbing on tables. Women stared dropping their tops everywhere, and some men dropped their pants. Even Jenny Sue joined in. She hiked up climbed up on our table and gave everyone a flash then jumped down into my arms, giving me zillions of guy points. People were cheering and shouting so loud you could actually hear them over the band. I checked out the cops in the corner and they didn’t seem too happy at the display, but you could tell they didn’t think rushing the stage to bust the crowd’s hero was the better part of valor. Meanwhile Ellen was getting the face fucking of her life. And Waco didn’t miss a note. In fact, his pronunciation seemed to improve.
Then Miko bounced on the stage. She knelt down right next to Ellen. Given that Miko is about a thousand times prettier then Ellen the cheering grew. Waco promptly relocated his dick. Now most girls would have slinked off in the face of some centerfold but not Ellen. I don’t know if it was confidence or what be she kept on kneeling and waiving her tongue. Eventually Waco shifted back to her mouth for the next verse. And so it went, verse and chorus with two of the King’s former lovers dueling tongues with Waco’s sperm the touchdown. I thought for a moment that Miko would have him with a long tongue swirl and a titty bob but Ellen countered will full length deep-throat immersion with flopping chin-nuts. It was like watching two artists up there, each determined to prevail and at the top of her game.
Of course nothing good lasts forever. As the song ended in an instrumental fury. Waco pulled out, and it was Ellen who got the money shot. She hopped to her feet like a bobby-soxer and gave everyone a look at a most impressive face painting. Miko seemed dejected but recovered enough to hike up her skirt and frig herself for the crowd. She had two fingers up inside when the cops rushed the stage.
Seems like the police hadn’t been idle during the performance. They decided to try a slow quiet approach while everyone was distracted. And called for reinforcements. With everyone was watching Ellen get slimed and Miko fingering almost no one noticed when they rushed forward to catch those nasty fornicators.
Only Ellen saw them coming. She dove right into the crowd and slipped down into the mosh pit which was throwing plastic beer cups at the cops. Ellen disappeared beneath the pit as the cops rushed around cuffing people. I grabbed Jenny Sue and pulled her toward the nearest exit as the house lights came up.
“What about Ellen?”
“She knows where we parked! ”
“We can’t just leave her.”
“We can if it keeps us out of jail. I’ll get fired and your ex might use that to sue for custody.”
“Not everybody is so mean as your ex-wife.” But she went with me as I filed toward the exit. People were throwing things a the stage while the cops went about cuffing just about everyone standing back stage, including my ex-wife whom they considered a co-conspirator. But the crowd was getting ugly and I wanted to make it outside before they started shooting off tear gas. Which we did, barely. I knobbed the fob and we slid inside my car. “We’d better get out of here!”
Jenny Sue stopped me. “Not without Ellen.”
“Cripes girl, she’s probably in handcuffs by now.”
“If she comes out in handcuffs, we’ll go. If she does sneak out she’ll need help.”
Jenny Sue had a point. Better to let the motor warm up a touch. Besides more cop cars were filing in. A door slid open in the back and a couple small, dark figures slipped. Out, One came our way, keeping her head down and away from the cops who were busy rushing in. Jenny Sue slid over and popped open the rear door as Ellen dove inside.
“Keep your head down! This place is crawling with cops.”
“Suckers!” Ellen roared with laughter, but kept her head down. I put the car in gear and began to inch my way out of the parking lot.
“Can’t you go any faster?”
“Not without attracting attention. In fact, you’d best not look in the back. Better pretend we’re feeling romantic.”
Jenny Sue leaned up tight against me and slipped her head on my shoulder. Two more cop cars roared into the parking lot before we made the turn and accelerated away.
Ellen came up roaring the moment we announced the coast was clear.
“Yee fucking haw! This has been the best night of my whole life!”
“How’d you get away.”
“I dove into the pit and crawled. It sucked but everyone was rooting for me, you know. One of the bouncers even opened the door for me so I could slip out the side.” Ellen cackled again, and I heard myself joining in.
“Gawd, girlfriend. You’re whole face is sticky.”
“Fuck yeah! And Waco does have a tattooed dick, though it isn’t finished. He fucking sprayed me good, and Miko hardly got any.”
“I want a taste,” said Jenny Sue. She was positively drooling.
“Eat it baby!” Ellen leaned forward and the next thing I knew Jenny Sue was licking the drying cream from Ellen’s face. Now I knew Jenny Sue liked the taste but really this was different. She was licking Ellen like a kitten, Ellen started licking back and pretty soon they progressed to heavy snogging. That was soon followed by titty-groping and a general unbuckling. By the time I got us home both women were half-nekkid, red-faced, breathing hard and staring at each other with intent. Fact is, I wondered if I was going to get some that night.
Jenny Sue’s fingers slid up my inseam just as I set the parking brake. She had something to feel too, as I’d been watching them in my mirrors. I glanced at Ellen.
“You plan on just sitting there?” she said.
That was all I needed. I could see the hooker in 2142 peeking out the window as we headed inside with all bosoms visible. I think I even saw her smile before I pulled the door closed behind us.
That night I enjoyed a slit-licking, sperm-swapping, titty-bopping, butt-slapping, crack-packing good time. I felt like a porn star, only the scenes went on a lot longer and when the sun came up I was dryer than the Sahara desert sandstorm. Sore, too. Hell, we were all sore despite exhausting Jenny Sue’s complete stock of surgilube. And we all woke up smiling. I understood why Waco kept coming back to Ellen. We all did. Even the hooker it 2142 asked about Ellen when we met in the laundry room. She hinted that a freebie might come my way for the right information. I told her Jenny Sue was more than enough for me.
“Most guys aren’t smart enough to know that, “ she told me. “Of course I’d be fucked if they were.”
The rest is history. While we all had crazy fun that night but never had another threesome with Ellen. It seems Dean had someone sneak a video camera in that night. Miko and Ellen’s performance made the web. The result was Ellen's stormy weekend affair with Charlie Sheen.
Miko also got her big break that night. Her method acting moan became well known in such classics as “Oriental Cumsuckers 9” and “Pound Me Hard 4’. A tell-all article in Sleaze placed her in a long-term lesbian relationship with another porn starlet. Porn funded four years of an upper middle class lifestyle and a new ‘vette before she moved to BDSM as “Mistress Wong, Queen of the Orient’. We ran across her at the supermarket where she told us beating guys was ‘a lot less work’.
The Spotted Shorts never got out of their contract. Word about the show spread and was typically exaggerated so much the last version I heard asserted Miko and Ellen fellated the whole front row. Ask Skip, as he remembers every detail. Religious nuts protested every show from that point. City councilmen and congressmen pounded on the table and cited them in hearings. They got banned in the Bible belt, but all that did was boost their fame. Armondo got richer and Waco converted to Islam to front The New Jihadis. The band members got to buy condos.
Armondo and Stacy never did marry. They blacked her face out for the video but when Inside Edition showed up at her door she moved to the Amish country in Eastern Ohio to run a commercial chicken farm. I love the fact that chicken farming involves a ton of artificial insemination. It suits her.
But she finally did give me my divorce. Six months after the concert I finished off my debts and bought a house. Jenny Sue and the kids moved in with me. We got married and year later she gave me a child of my own. I call that a happy ending.