Your groupies stories. Here.

[brikus]

Post 'em here. :o

[THX1138]

No. What happens on the road stays on the road.

[Lee Flier]

Good call THX. :D

[Fr!tz]

Last January we played a gig at a local bar, I noticed a big breasted brunette watching me for the 1st set. I know us drummers are Damn Sexy but this chick was practically bangin' me with her eyes!:eek: So Inbetween sets I walked up to her and she bought me a drink... (Oh yah, you can see where this is going)

We got back up there finneshed our 2nd and 3rd sets and after the show she wanted to take me back to her place... Being the good hearted fella I am I wnet with her:D We proceded to have wild sex and all that goes along with it... After it was all said and done I went to go home and her kids were sitting right outside her door:mad: !

I wrote a song called "Slutbanger" to immortalize the evening:D

[fuzzball]

Back before I got married I met a hot red head (we are talking a 10, she was smokin). She told me she loved my music and would love to strip while I play a tune. I thought she was just teasing. Around 2 weeks later I played a small gig, after the show I go backstage to a private little room to relax for a min, and guess what, the red head comes in. I played a tune she striped and after that we had several hours of fun. I will never forget it.:cool:

[brikus]

Originally posted by THX1138
No. What happens on the road stays on the road.

you say that because your music never got you laid ! :D :D :D

[Rippin' Robin]

Originally posted by fritzgog13

I wrote a song called "Slutbanger" to immortalize the evening:D

Bwahaha.. sig worthy!

Ooh yeah I banged to slut
Schmokin' love in her butt
Lovin' fire from my blowtorch
And I then left like a proud laddy
Saw her kids sittin' on the porch
Screamin': "Are you our daddy?"

[THX1138]

Originally posted by brikus


you say that because your music never got you laid ! :D :D :D

Quite the contrary my good man. :D

I say that because my music has greatly aided the addition of bones to my closet, and they needn't be discussed.

[brikus]

Originally posted by THX1138


Quite the contrary my good man. :D

I say that because my music has greatly aided the addition of bones to my closet, and they needn't be discussed.

deny all you like...if you had got poon thanks to your music you'd tell it ! :o

[Badside]

Originally posted by THX1138


Quite the contrary my good man. :D

I say that because my music has greatly aided the addition of bones to my closet, and they needn't be discussed.

Don't worry, we won't tell your wife :)

My groupie story is that I once banged the ugliest girl in the world because she happened to follow us to the hotel room and couldn't keep her mouth shut. So I had two options: drive her home, or bang her :D

The guys in my band are still having a laugh at me about this one, even though it's been almost 4 years. Hey, at least I got nookie that night :)

[brikus]

Originally posted by Hardtailed


Don't worry, we won't tell your wife :)

My groupie story is that I once banged the ugliest girl in the world because she happened to follow us to the hotel room and couldn't keep her mouth shut. So I had two options: drive her home, or bang her :D

The guys in my band are still having a laugh at me about this one, even though it's been almost 4 years. Hey, at least I got nookie that night :)

how ugly ? pics puhleeeeeeeeeeease... :o

[Badside]

Originally posted by brikus


how ugly ? pics puhleeeeeeeeeeease... :o

Well, think about all the traits that make a beautiful women beautiful... and reverse them. (Well except she was blonde and had blue eyes...)

Thing is, from the waist down, she was a perfect 10! I actually ended up enjoying it. But then when the morning came she started yapping again :mad:

[brikus]

Originally posted by Hardtailed


Well, think about all the traits that make a beautiful women beautiful... and reverse them. (Well except she was blonde and had blue eyes...)

Thing is, from the waist down, she was a perfect 10! I actually ended up enjoying it. But then when the morning came she started yapping again :mad:

she had no boobies ? :confused: :(
Was she at least horny enough for her partner to have fun ?

yapping again ? No prob-a-lem ! Do her in the ass doggy style, and then she's be yapping for a reason ! :D

[squealie]

Originally posted by THX1138
No. What happens on the road stays on the road.

God, I hope so.

[Fr!tz]

Originally posted by Rippin' Robin


Bwahaha.. sig worthy!

Ooh yeah I banged to slut
Schmokin' love in her butt
Lovin' fire from my blowtorch
And I then left like a proud laddy
Saw her kids sittin' on the porch
Screamin': "Are you our daddy?"


L:D L

Close :o

[Guitar Guru]

I posted this when it happened last year, but I'll tell the tale one more time. Here's the short-short version.

Showed up to soundcheck. Sound guy brought his girlfriend and another female friend to the gig. This female friend was drunk already.
She thought we were some other band. But she kept professing her love for our music. During our set, she came on stage twice to "dance". Her first dance consisted of showing the crowd her bare ass.
Her second dance had her pulling her pants down to her ankles and rubbing her cooch on my picking hand in the middle of the song.


Don't believe me? View the video on our website......the link is below.

[TheMan]

Originally posted by THX1138
No. What happens on the road stays on the road.

Yesh. It would be ungentlemanly to elaborate. 'Specially for us married gentlemans.

[riffdaddy]

Originally posted by TheMan


Yesh. It would be ungentlemanly to elaborate. 'Specially for us married gentlemans.

If you're married but still have a story on which to elaborate, your gentleman status is seriously questionable.

[Kid Klash]

Originally posted by TheMan


Yesh. It would be ungentlemanly to elaborate. 'Specially for us married gentlemans.

Yep... what TheMan said...

[brikus]

you bunch of hypocrites !!!! :D :D :D

[caveman]

I married one and now have at least 8 grand children and 1 great grand child. :eek: :D

[caveman]

After a small amount of reflective finger counting, the new total is 9 and 1.:D

[JBJ]

my ex girlfriend sung for our band for a good few years so i dunno if that counts as a groupie but I got more poon than the rest of the band put together at shows as a result.


the daddy of them all is boning her in the dressing room of the club Oasis got signed it 5 minutes before we went onstage:cool:

[TheMan]

Originally posted by riffdaddy

...your gentleman status is seriously questionable.

Can't argue wif dat!

[Lee Flier]

Originally posted by riffdaddy


If you're married but still have a story on which to elaborate, your gentleman status is seriously questionable.

Not necessarily. Some gentlemen don't like to talk about their PAST after they get married.

I hope that's what he meant. ;)

[brikus]

Originally posted by Lee Flier


Not necessarily. Some gentlemen don't like to talk about their PAST after they get married.

I hope that's what he meant. ;)

'fcourse :o

[DougH]

But brikus...what about your stories:o Tell us of the wild french women in your fine land.:cool:

[brikus]

Originally posted by DougH
But brikus...what about your stories:o Tell us of the wild french women in your fine land.:cool:


wait wait wait. I'm talking about groupies here...not women in general. So, to the widest extent, this thread can deal with these times our music has got us laid.

In my case, when I was a student, I hooked up with my ex-ex GF by playing my guitar and singing. :o

[Badside]

Oh, I just remember a groopie story that I am less proud of:

As we were packing our stuff after the show, the bar was almost empty (you know, lights on, 5-6 people still hanging around). There was this guy sitting at a table alone, looking constantly in our direction. Being the paranoid that I am, I figured he was waiting for the perfect moment to snatch a guitar or something while we were looking elsewhere. So I made sure to look frequently in his direction so he knew that I knew he was there.

Anyway, as we are about finished and ready to start loading the truck, the guys stands up and start walking towards me. I quickly realized that I had the WRONG WRONG WRONG idea. He wasn't interested in musical gear, he was interested in my "man gear" :eek:
The fact that I was looking in his direction frequently, he figured I was too. Being the polite fellow that I am, I told him that I was not who he thought I was and that was it.

Anyway, I try to dress and act in a more masculine way since then :D
I don't mind gay people being attracted to me, it's rather flattering and I don't have anything to prove. But it does make you wonder: why did he think I was interested? Oh yeah, I kept looking at him *slaps his forehead*

[PBBPaul]

Maybe it was your 'hard tail' :D

[Badside]

Originally posted by PBBPaul
Maybe it was your 'hard tail' :D

The only "hardtail" you could see on stage was on my guitars :)

[brikus]

Originally posted by Hardtailed
Oh, I just remember a groopie story that I am less proud of:

As we were packing our stuff after the show, the bar was almost empty (you know, lights on, 5-6 people still hanging around). There was this guy sitting at a table alone, looking constantly in our direction. Being the paranoid that I am, I figured he was waiting for the perfect moment to snatch a guitar or something while we were looking elsewhere. So I made sure to look frequently in his direction so he knew that I knew he was there.

Anyway, as we are about finished and ready to start loading the truck, the guys stands up and start walking towards me. I quickly realized that I had the WRONG WRONG WRONG idea. He wasn't interested in musical gear, he was interested in my "man gear" :eek:
The fact that I was looking in his direction frequently, he figured I was too. Being the polite fellow that I am, I told him that I was not who he thought I was and that was it.

Anyway, I try to dress and act in a more masculine way since then :D
I don't mind gay people being attracted to me, it's rather flattering and I don't have anything to prove. But it does make you wonder: why did he think I was interested? Oh yeah, I kept looking at him *slaps his forehead*

ha ha ha ha :D
any pics of the outfit you were wearing that night ? :D :D :D

[raggydoll]

Originally posted by JBJ
my ex boyfriend sung for our band for a good few years so i dunno if that counts as a groupie but I got more man-bum than the rest of the band put together at shows as a result.


the daddy of them all is boning him in the dressing room of the club Oasis got signed it 5 minutes before we went onstage:cool:

:rolleyes:

[Badside]

Originally posted by brikus


ha ha ha ha :D
any pics of the outfit you were wearing that night ? :D :D :D

Well I WAS wearing a purple shirt...

[riffdaddy]

Well, I guess I have gotten my share of PLP, but all from the same girl. :o

[ratthedd]

Originally posted by caveman
After a small amount of reflective finger counting, the new total is 9 and 1.:D

Gettin' old's a bitch, ain't it?


:D:D

[ratthedd]

Originally posted by Hardtailed
But it does make you wonder: why did he think I was interested? Oh yeah, I kept looking at him *slaps his forehead*

Don't kid yourself. He was checking you out 'cause you wear a feather boa. :eek:


:D:D

[riffdaddy]

Originally posted by ratthedd

He was checking you out 'cause you wear a feather boa. :eek:


:D:D

Doesn't everybody?

[Guitar Centaur]

Here's one you all can use. Just fill in the blanks:

:D



This story takes place in the summer of _____________. My band,
___________________ , was playing at _________________ , a local
drinking establishment that was part of the hot scene in
______________________ back then. Let me tell you, the place was
packed that night! Wall-to-wall babes in revealing, skin-tight
outfits.

The crowd was just getting warmed up when we took the stage. We
rocked that place like it had never been rocked before! I was
spot-on that night. When I ripped into the solo in
__________________________ , I was just in the zone.

I first noticed "her" during our next number, ____________________ .
Her name was __________________ and she was hot! She positioned
herself right in front of me and started shakin' those
_________________ right at me. When she smiled at me, I could see
__________________________ . I was hooked. The band finished off the
set with a scorching rendition of _________________________ and then
I set off to the bar in search of her. She wasn't hard to find. All
I had to do was look for the crowd of ____________ around her. As
soon as she saw me, she coyly flashed me her ____________________ .
I knew she wanted me.

I made my move towards her when I suddenly felt a jarring impact on
my right temple and was knocked senseless. When I came to, she was
nowhere to be found. I discovered that I had been hit by
___________________________ which had been
_____________________________ the subject of my affection. Bruised
and disoriented, I nevertheless finished the gig with
________________________ and drove the crowd wild.

As I was packing up my gear, I heard a __________________________
from close behind me. I knew that had to be her. We hopped in my
_____________________ and hit the road, stopping only for
______________________ on our way back to my place. I don't think I
need to tell you the rest.

[jherman]

one of my personal favorite groupie storys comes from Peoria Il, Basically playing to a decent amount of people (1000 at the expo gardens), some girl is eyeballing me whilest on stage, and between head whirls and axe chopping i would return the favor, stepped off stage after our set, she comes up to me and says "you were amazing" and me being the suave asshole that i am said "wanna come over here for a minute?" as i motion to the back stage area she follows, i walk into the bathroom and shut the door (she followed me in there) hah basically yea, just pulled my sweaty fresh off stage no washing, no cologne no nothing junk out and she dropped to her knees..... hahahahahahahahaha


ahhhhhhhhhhhh memories!

[Terry Allan Hall]

Originally posted by riffdaddy


If you're married but still have a story on which to elaborate, your gentleman status is seriously questionable.

Excellent point!

My favorite "groupy story"? Well, I was gigging in New Jersey about 9 years ago (June 30th, to be exact) and this fine looking, delightfully voluptuous gal grabbed my hand as I walked back from break and informed me that she wanted to marry me...

Sure enough, we got married about 14 months later. :)

[Guitar Centaur]

Originally posted by Terry Allan Hall


Sure enough, we got married about 14 months later. :)

I bet your wedding day was the only day you've taken a bath, wasn't it?

:D

[zookie]

Groupies? Well, look at it this way... A couple of months ago I was playing guitar in an acoustic session in a pub. A 20-something gal plops down drunkenly on the chair next to me and exclaims that she just loves guitar players; all her boyfriends have been guitar players.

From way across the pub my wife's radar went ballistic. She was next to me in an instant and, dripping with sweetness, told the young lady she, too, liked guitar players and that was why she married this one.

[MrKnobs]

Gosh, too many to tell. :o

I was playing a biker bar one time and this big fat girl came up and tried to unzip my pants and take care of my business right as I was playing.

Now that's just good rock 'n roll, except there's a little backstory to it.

The girl, whose name was Lisa, was not entirely unknown to me. When I first moved to town about 4 years prior, she picked me up drunk in a bar, took me home with her, and more or less rocked my world, not entirely in a good way. I won't elaborate on what happened that night (although that's also an excellent rock 'n roll story), but let's just summarize that I characterized her as "nuts" and decided to avoid her thereafter.

For a couple of years I didn't see her again and pretty much forgot all about her, as much as you can forget about someone who did what she did to me.

But then she reappeared in my life, having married the assistant amp tech at the music store where I worked part time while going to college. Imagine my surprise when my assistant introduced his new wife to me. :eek:

But you know, everyone has baggage, so I just did the proper thing, kept my mouth shut, and hoped she'd do the same. I actually hoped she wouldn't remember me but clearly she did.

So back to the present. I'm playing in a biker bar and she's unzipping my fly trying to drag little Terry out on stage. There's a lot of people there and she's my newly married coworker's wife.

Now I wouldn't allow what she was trying to do to happen even if she was a stranger, because most of the things that could happen are bad. I remember Boz Skaggs writing how that happened to him and how he was so freaked out there was no lead in his pencil. In front of several thousand people! :eek:

But this was worse.

The bikers in the club were howling with delight at her actions, but I basically just moved around to thwart her efforts, then hid in the break room between sets. My band was delighted at my problem, and I'm sure the the crowd had a good time at my expense too.

The next day I really dreaded going to work and seeing George, her husband. I got there a little early and sought advice from the store owner Billy, who was wise in all things rock 'n roll, especially where women are concerned. He basically advised me to chill out and act like nothing happened.

Then George showed up. Lisa had told him everything, but spun it so that she was "just messing with him (me)." He thought it was hilarious.

I thought he was a freakin' idiot, but I was relieved to be off the hook.

I wonder how they're doing?

Terry D.

[ATOMICDOG1]

I was running sound on the road for a band a few years ago. We were playing in a small town in South Dakota at a pretty big bar. There were a bunch of girls there that were hitting on the band pretty hard, most of them were pretty decent, but there was one that was pretty ugly that was following the singer around pretty close, he was getting pretty annoyed by her, you could tell.
So we get done with the gig and get the gear struck and started to load the truck. We walk outside and heres the ugly chick sitting outside waiting for us. While we're loading out she just sits there by the truck babbling about nothing and trying to get the singers attention, he's ignoring her, lol. So we finished loading and left the truck at the club since the hotel we were staying at was only a block away. We had invited some of the bar staff back to the hotel for some drinks and cards. So we walk back to the room and party for a while and I ended up sitting in a chair leaning back against the wall right by one of the beds. I must have been asleep for a while when I got woke up. I opened my eyes and it was pretty dark in the room. I could see the bed though, and there was the ugly girl naked and on top of the singer, humping him pretty hard. He's just laying there with his arms behind his head. Then he goes "Hey, let me know when you're done, I gotta get some sleep". It took all of my self control not to break out laughing and let on that I was awake. The poor girl gave him one or two more humps and rolled off of him, got her clothes on and left without a word. After the door closed, he just chuckled and went to sleep. The next day we were all giving him about it, turns out I wasn't the only one she woke up :D

[MrKnobs]

For those of you who haven't checked out this thread (http://acapella.harmony-central.com/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=17271) over on the Live Sound Forum, there are quite a few groupie stories embedded in there.

I'd point you precisely to one or two, but the damn search feature is disabled. :mad:

:)

Terry D.

[Heineken]

I had cheap sex with the entire Kelly-family backstage:o

[chunkathalon]

Originally posted by ATOMICDOG1
I was running sound on the road for a band a few years ago. We were playing in a small town in South Dakota at a pretty big bar. There were a bunch of girls there that were hitting on the band pretty hard, most of them were pretty decent, but there was one that was pretty ugly that was following the singer around pretty close, he was getting pretty annoyed by her, you could tell.
So we get done with the gig and get the gear struck and started to load the truck. We walk outside and heres the ugly chick sitting outside waiting for us. While we're loading out she just sits there by the truck babbling about nothing and trying to get the singers attention, he's ignoring her, lol. So we finished loading and left the truck at the club since the hotel we were staying at was only a block away. We had invited some of the bar staff back to the hotel for some drinks and cards. So we walk back to the room and party for a while and I ended up sitting in a chair leaning back against the wall right by one of the beds. I must have been asleep for a while when I got woke up. I opened my eyes and it was pretty dark in the room. I could see the bed though, and there was the ugly girl naked and on top of the singer, humping him pretty hard. He's just laying there with his arms behind his head. Then he goes "Hey, let me know when you're done, I gotta get some sleep". It took all of my self control not to break out laughing and let on that I was awake. The poor girl gave him one or two more humps and rolled off of him, got her clothes on and left without a word. After the door closed, he just chuckled and went to sleep. The next day we were all giving him about it, turns out I wasn't the only one she woke up :D
that sounds a bit too cruel to be funny to me

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by chunkathalon

that sounds a bit too cruel to be funny to me

What sounds strange to me is they were rude to the girl before the dude was done. Otherwise it has the ring of truth from my experience.

Then again, when you're on the road and dead tired, having ingested a few illegal substances.....

Terry D.

[Tedster]

Oh, man!!! I've got a great one!

My buddy was down in Florida, rented a charter boat off the keys...and caught this one:

http://www.bajadestinations.com/fishid/groupgulf/abbot116gulf%20group.jpg

Ohh...you said "grouPIES". I thought it said "grouPERS".

Never mind...

[axe2 2001]

our band played at a friends wedding some years ago. Everyone was openly telling the guy ,, dude, don't marry this chick, she's a whore! He just laughed and says hey, I knocked her up, i'm gonna do the right thing. So we do the wedding and it was a blast. Not your typical wedding. It was at a bar and it was a truely rockin time. Well, durring the coarse of the night, the bride starts flirting around with ALL the band guys. Our other guitarist was single and he was drinkin and gettin horned up. By the way, this girl was hot. Just a slut is all. Well she ended up following our guitar player home, walking in his house and fuckin his brains out on the wedding night! Two days later she was at my house but my then girlfriend was over so she just visited. Then I heard that same night she went to our drummers house and did him! WOW! Needless to say, they are divorced now.

[franknputer]

Originally posted by Crustycabs
Here's one you all can use. Just fill in the blanks:

:D



This story takes place in the summer of _____________. My band,
___________________ , was playing at _________________ , a local
drinking establishment...

You forgot the opening line:

"Dear Penthouse,

I never thought this would happen to me, but..." :D

[DonaldDemon]

Do you most of you guys play in cover bands? I don't know what the hell I do wrong but I have never ever had a girl come on to me, come up to me, even talk to me at a show. WTF am I doing wrong? I'd like to think that I'm a decent looking dude, 6'2" and in shape. I get more chicks when we aren't playing. It must be the music we play. Not girl/bar-whore friendly type of music. I think I scare them more than enchant them. You guys must be playing Bon Jovi and Blink-182 covers.

I'll never forget this one gig we played where the singer for the horrible cover band before us had the balding-with-long-hair thing, was overweight, and wearing a FANNY-PACK! Well there was this smoking red head that was eyeing him up so I figured if she was into this wanker in the this excrutiatingly terrible band that she would be easy prey when my band went on. Well, after the show I tried shooting some attention her way backstage and she glided right past me towards the fanny-pack guy. Yeah, he left with her shortly after. That's when I realized I am doomed and just gave up trying.

[MDLMUSIC]

Originally posted by DonaldDemon
Do you most of you guys play in cover bands? I don't know what the hell I do wrong but I have never ever had a girl come on to me, come up to me, even talk to me at a show. WTF am I doing wrong? I'd like to think that I'm a decent looking dude, 6'2" and in shape. I get more chicks when we aren't playing. It must be the music we play. Not girl/bar-whore friendly type of music. I think I scare them more than enchant them. You guys must be playing Bon Jovi and Blink-182 covers.

I'll never forget this one gig we played where the singer for the horrible cover band before us had the balding-with-long-hair thing, was overweight, and wearing a FANNY-PACK! Well there was this smoking red head that was eyeing him up so I figured if she was into this wanker in the this excrutiatingly terrible band that she would be easy prey when my band went on. Well, after the show I tried shooting some attention her way backstage and she glided right past me towards the fanny-pack guy. Yeah, he left with her shortly after. That's when I realized I am doomed and just gave up trying.

I'm thinking she might have just had a thing for fanny packs.

[GCDEF]

Originally posted by DonaldDemon
Do you most of you guys play in cover bands? I don't know what the hell I do wrong but I have never ever had a girl come on to me, come up to me, even talk to me at a show. WTF am I doing wrong? I'd like to think that I'm a decent looking dude, 6'2" and in shape. I get more chicks when we aren't playing. It must be the music we play. Not girl/bar-whore friendly type of music. I think I scare them more than enchant them. You guys must be playing Bon Jovi and Blink-182 covers.



That's pretty weird. I get approached by women every time we play. I'm not saying they're all hitting on me, but plenty of them want to come up and chat. I'm just an average looking middle aged guy. I do like to make eye contact and show appreciation when the girls are up there dancing though. You got to look like you're having fun. Perhaps you stare at your shoes with a frown on your face?

My drummer has the same problem. He's a niced guy, decent looking, friendly, and the single guy in the band. For some reason I can't understand he can't get any tail at our shows to save his life and there's always something there for the pickings. If you're in a band and you can't get laid every once in a while, you're doing something pretty seriously wrong.

[DonaldDemon]

Originally posted by GCDEF


That's pretty weird. I get approached by women every time we play. I'm not saying they're all hitting on me, but plenty of them want to come up and chat. I'm just an average looking middle aged guy. I do like to make eye contact and show appreciation when the girls are up there dancing though. You got to look like you're having fun. Perhaps you stare at your shoes with a frown on your face?

My drummer has the same problem. He's a niced guy, decent looking, friendly, and the single guy in the band. For some reason I can't understand he can't get any tail at our shows to save his life and there's always something there for the pickings. If you're in a band and you can't get laid every once in a while, you're doing something pretty seriously wrong.

Yeah I do look down when I play and don't attempt to make much eye contact. I figure if I concentrate on playing awesome it will pay off later but it never has. I guess I need to do some more wanking on stage. Most people at original places are lame and don't dance.

[greaseenvelope]

Originally posted by DonaldDemon
Do you most of you guys play in cover bands? I don't know what the hell I do wrong but I have never ever had a girl come on to me, come up to me, even talk to me at a show. WTF am I doing wrong? I'd like to think that I'm a decent looking dude, 6'2" and in shape. I get more chicks when we aren't playing. It must be the music we play. Not girl/bar-whore friendly type of music.

You probably seem too desperate, and girls hate that. You've got to seem friendly but unimmediate. What kind of music do you play anyway? I scare away perspectives too but that's because I play very experimental music in my bands which people will usually either love or hate. One of my bands might also convince onlookers that I am somehow mentally unstable, so the universal attitude that musician=sex magnet is a little misleading.

I've got to add anther layer to this story: I'm gay, and while I'm out to everyone who knows me I don't look very stereotypical. So my relationships with crowd women can be really funny, especially with the drunken post-modern choreographer types that tend to hang out at my shows. I've diffused more than one possible groupie story for this thread by mentioning my proclivities to them in some funny off-hand way while they are in the early stages of trying to seduce. I keep hoping one of these girls will be like "Oh you should meet my friend John (or whatever..) then... *enter tall shy geeky looking wallflower of my dreams* but it never does. *sigh*

Everytime I run into a fellow fag at one of my shows, he has a boyfriend :(

Being a gay musician playing anything from left-field totally sucks, because I spend all my spare time working on my bands, and the rest of it at dayjob, so I have no time in which meet any queers with half a brain. I can't go to gay bars either, that music drives me up the fucking wall.

:mad:

[GCDEF]

Originally posted by DonaldDemon


Yeah I do look down when I play and don't attempt to make much eye contact. I figure if I concentrate on playing awesome it will pay off later but it never has. I guess I need to do some more wanking on stage. Most people at original places are lame and don't dance.

Girls don't care how well you play as long as you don't mess up horribly. Make and hold eye contact, smile a bit and have fun with it. Pick a girl, hold here attention and make her think you're playing just for her. Get yourself a mic even if you don't sing, so you can make comments and talk to people too.

I do play in a cover band but I look at it like it's our job to be the life of the party and to entertain people. That requires talking and interacting with people. Once you start that, you'll be tapping booty in no time.

[greaseenvelope]

What that guy said +1

[ratthedd]

Originally posted by MDLMUSIC


I'm thinking she might have just had a thing for fanny packs.

I'm guessing he kept a steely dan in the fanny pack for special occasions.

[ratthedd]

Originally posted by DonaldDemon


Most people at original places are lame and don't dance.

You can't dance to a song you've never heard before.

If you want dancers you almost HAVE to have some covers to do. If you refuse to play covers exactly as they appear in recordings, then take the lyrics from some popular song and rewrite the melody to make it your own. It's worked for bands from The Rolling Stones to Marilyn Manson.

[fuzzball]

I play both covers and originals. I am in decent shape and 5'11. I have never had any girl trouble. I think the key is confidence, they like confident men. Get on stage and show them that you owne it.

[Strings74]

Originally posted by GCDEF


Girls don't care how well you play as long as you don't mess up horribly. Make and hold eye contact, smile a bit and have fun with it. Pick a girl, hold here attention and make her think you're playing just for her. Get yourself a mic even if you don't sing, so you can make comments and talk to people too.

I do play in a cover band but I look at it like it's our job to be the life of the party and to entertain people. That requires talking and interacting with people. Once you start that, you'll be tapping booty in no time.

Nooooo doubt! Dish a lil' schpiel and have fun with it.

Good god I can't wait for our next gig!

:p

[Strings74]

Originally posted by fuzzball
I play both covers and originals. I am in decent shape and 5'11. I have never had any girl trouble. I think the key is confidence, they like confident men. Get on stage and show them that you owne it.

And for the record, looks don't even matter half as much as confidence and charm when it comes to getting most (worthwhile) women.

Trust me.

Not to say that I'm not unbelievably handsome because I sooooooooo am. Modest too!

:o

[BndGrl]

Well coming from a self-confessed "groupie" here's how ya do it fella's:

1. Dress like you belong on stage. If you look like you just rolled out of bed onto the stage it won't happen for you. My favorite 'band guy' outfit...leather pants...yes that's it..just leather pants.

But know your limitations! If you ain't got the body for it, please, please don't do it. Just 'cuz ya own 'em, don't mean they should be on your body. See examples below:

Approriate leather use:
http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y174/morristk/c6.jpg

Inapropriate leather use:
http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y174/morristk/leather.jpg


2. Be confident! It's your stage, own it dammit!!

Appropriate use of the stage: That's effin' HOT!
http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y174/morristk/TK/tk421_317.jpg


3. Move around. Don't stand in one spot all night. Chicks dig a guy who will jump up on a speaker and start playing or one who will jump out into the crowd.

Appropriate use of speaker:...see the chicks digging it?
http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y174/morristk/trizz.jpg

4. Work the room between sets. Go up and talk to people. Flirt with us!! We love the attention.

Ok that's "How to Get Groupies 101." Anybody got any questions?

[Strings74]

Ok that's "How to Get Groupies 101." Anybody got any questions? [/B]

Pics?

:D

[BndGrl]

Sorry, no pics. That's Groupie Rule #1, What happens on the road, stays on the road...leave no evidence ;) :D

[greaseenvelope]

Originally posted by ratthedd


You can't dance to a song you've never heard before.



The fact that this is the prevelent attitude in this country makes me :( . I dance to music I've never heard before all the time. I want to rail against the logic here but I guess for most music venues it's true.

[Strings74]

Originally posted by BndGrl
Sorry, no pics. That's Groupie Rule #1, What happens on the road, stays on the road...leave no evidence ;) :D

This is sometimes difficult without a dedicated cleaning staff.

[BndGrl]

Originally posted by Strings74


This is sometimes difficult without a dedicated cleaning staff.

I really should start leaving the hotel housekeepers tips after the way we've left some of the rooms... :(

[BndGrl]

Originally posted by greaseenvelope


The fact that this is the prevelent attitude in this country makes me :( . I dance to music I've never heard before all the time.

AMEN!!!!

[brikus]

some fun stories here... Keep 'em coming folks ! :cool:

[JBJ]

to mirror what everyone has said:

girls aren;t interested in guys doing their owns tuff unless they'#re incredibly good looking, an absolutely fantastic band or they're on their way up in the business.

simple as that. there are exceptions to the rule but it boils down to that so you need to make them want you.

one of the best things that ever happened to me during a small gig we done at a party was my ex girlfriends dad coming up to me and saying enjoy yourself, when i said i was he said well fucking smile a little :) it became distrubingly noticeable that even though I'm the token one int he band that can't keep still on stage and am always selling it, I wasn't doing anything with my face at all, I wasn;t giving any impression of really enjoying myself and being into it so now I make a concentrated effort to grin, smile,s mirk etc... while still keepign the moving about, dancing etc... going.

it does make a huge difference witht he crowd.

again with the moving. as people have said: don't stand and look at your feet. I saw a band a couple of years ago who were decent but the main reason i can still remember them over every other small band ive seen is they had a guy singing who wasnt the greatest by a stretch and a girl singing who was amazing.

thing is, the girl looked petrified onstage even when she had this cracking voice coming out of her whereas the guy who couldn't sing fuckign owned the stage and made it his even when he wasn;t singing. if you don't look like you belong onstage than it's going to turn people off.

it's all down to confidence and it doesn't take much effort at all and even though you're conscious of thinking k time to smile, time to dance round that chick over there etc... no one else in the crowd is. fuck if we're doign a big gig and i'm wanting to get psyched up i'll find a mirror ands start pep talking myself in it. looks absolutely ridiculous but it loosens you up so much and again, the only people who see you doign it are you and whoever else is around, everyone out the front just sees a guy whos come out ready to kick ass from go.

btw i decided to start doign that after an old college lecturer told me about a gig he done with a guy in london back in the 60s who was dancing and posing and shit in front of a mirror. they all thought it was idiotic till they saw the guy onstage kicking ass on every level. after it said guy came up to the drummer and said hi im mick and this is my mate keith, we really liked your band.
:D

[sventvkg]

Don't kiss and tell...also, If we did tell, it would just sound like we were bragging and everyone would think the other was full of shit anyway...:)

[SpacedCowboy]

Originally posted by sventvkg
Don't kiss and tell...also, If we did tell, it would just sound like we were bragging and everyone would think the other was full of shit anyway...:)

+1,000,000

[KeysBear]

Truth is even at 48 years old and with not much hair I get a half dozen offers a year.
I turn them down, mostly because I married well and prefer what I have at home.

[Cassius]

Originally posted by KeysBear

I turn them down, mostly :o

[Strings74]

Originally posted by Cassius
:o

*chuckle*

:D

[srsfallriver]

Very short version (and general warning for giging overseas):

I did a gig in a fairly poor European country, met a girl, fooled around, and to my surprise she came to the States a month later in the hopes that I'd marry her so she could stay here. I fooled around a bit more but I told her no way and she ended up finding someone else to keep her here.

A few years later, I giged in the same country with another band. The exact same thing happened again! One of the guys in the band said that the girls there will hook up with just about any American guy that they can get, just to get out of thier situation.

[mr3lions]

Played a gig out of town and picked up quite a hottie at the bar. When we get back to the hotel none of the guys would get out of the 1 room we had so I had to spend all the money I'd earned that night on a room for the two of us. Anyway, we get in the new room and get to business. Suddenly I look up and the bass player is stood outside at the window, eating a piece of pizza, laughing his ass off. Luckily she found it pretty funny too.

[IcedEarthian]

LOL you guys and your fucking stories..keep em up!

[Bajazz]

Originally posted by Hardtailed
I quickly realized that I had the WRONG WRONG WRONG idea. He wasn't interested in musical gear, he was interested in my "man gear" :eek:Some guy once came up to the stage, and I thought he was about to shout a request in my ear when I suddenly felt a wet thounge tickling my eardrum.... :eek:

[Edward]

Originally posted by THX1138
No. What happens on the road stays on the road.

Oh, you're married then?






:p

[Edward]

Originally posted by riffdaddy


If you're married but still have a story on which to elaborate, your gentleman status is seriously questionable.

Bingo!

[Edward]

Originally posted by ratthedd


Don't kid yourself. He was checking you out 'cause you wear a feather boa. :eek:


:D:D


Maybe I should be more careful, then, given what i wear on stage... heh.

[Edward]

Originally posted by DonaldDemon
Most people at original places are lame and don't dance.

You try dancing with a lame leg! :mad:












:p

[MrKnobs]

Part I. Dry Humping in a fairy costume

I'm a musician, or at least back in the 80's I was. Big permed hair, pointy guitars, spandex pants, huge amplifier stacks, bunches of drunk and screaming fans, the five of us packed into a stinky van riding around the state playing sold out shows and making enough money to buy smokes, booze, weed, and sometimes a decent hotel room for the night. We called it, "the life," and we were sure as hell living it.

Maybe you've heard one of our records on the radio, or have an old faded t-shirt with our name on the front. Lots of people must, we sold several shitloads of them at $10 each. I hope you saw our video on MTV, they only played it once, probably because it sucked. Or maybe you have a small scar on your hand or face caused by my bad habit of throwing flaming guitar picks into the audience, or maybe you just stood too close to one of our flash pots that was a little overloaded that evening. If so, sorry 'bout that. Our light/pyro guy was a druggie and tended to f*ck stuff up. We fired him when we noticed he was more f*cked up than we were.

I didn't give a shit about any of that, though. I was in it for the girls. The groupies as some people call them; the messed up little cuties that crawl out of the woodwork in every town and try to get close to the musicians in the only way they can, by sleeping with us - to use a polite but usually inaccurate term. All I thought about was the next one, even while I was with the current one.

That's not a completely fair characterization of myself, though. I also really liked writing songs and seeing if our fans would dig 'em as much as I did. Lyrics don't come out of the air, they come from your life. After some time on the road, a lot of guys fall into the trap of writing about hotel rooms, drinking, and riding around in tour buses. Not me, I strictly wrote about girls. Like I said, I didn't give a shit about anything else.

To this day, when a stranger asks me what I do, I still say the same thing: "I draw musicial portraits of women." And it's still just as true as it was back then. Just this once, I'm going to try it without the music. Let me know what you think.

There was one particularly cute girl that used to stalk me at gigs. She came to just about every one of our in town shows. I didn't think anything of it, lots of people follow bands around, especially girls.

Finally, she managed to make me notice her. We were playing some upscale, meat market club in College Station, and she was dancing in front of us as usual, so I did something I sometimes do and danced with her (while still playing). As it happened that night, the power went out while I was doing that and I found myself standing on the dance floor next to her waiting for the club to flip their breakers or whatever and she suddenly planted a huge sensuous kiss on me. :eek:

Well, that happens sometimes too and I still didn't think it was a big deal. She gave me her phone number that night, which, come to think of it, she had done several times before. Back then I had all kinds of girlfriends and I made it a careful habit to throw away all phone numbers at the club before going home, lest my pockets get checked while I slept leading to all sorts of drama.

It's a habit I still have, just part of the business. You take the number graciously, you throw it away in the club dumpster. Like checking for your keys before locking your car.

Anyway, things finally came to a head a couple weeks later at a Halloween party when this same girl shows up dressed like a fairy. She just walks up to the stage while I'm playing, motions for me to bend down so she can tell me something or request a song, and said "Terry - how are you EVER going to F*CK me if you don't call me?"

That got my attention! :eek:

I didn't have her phone number so I found her out in the parking lot on our break and things immediately got hot and heavy. We relocated to the back of my truck and some serious "dry humping" and groping commenced, with her moaning softly and really getting into it. She was a strong girl, all muscle but with just the right amount of curves and softness where it counts. She was six foot nothin', probably about 140 lbs, tall, tight, and lean. HOT in an amazon kinda way.

I was more than ready to go and my set break was running out. I had just started unbuttoning her jeans when suddenly she stiffened up and said, "STOP!" :eek:

WTF? She had just been kissing me like there was no tomorrow, grabbing my crotch a bit too hard, and making animal noises. Stop? Huh? :confused:

Well, shit like that happens sometimes, especially at shows. You meet a bunch of crazy bitches. Could be anything; her period, maybe she had a husband or boyfriend, maybe I called her by the wrong name, maybe she was fighting her gayness and lost, who the f*ck knows. Doesn't really matter.

I got off her, she buttoned her shirt back up, and I headed back to the stage to do our last set with a serious set of blue balls. She showed up briefly during the set with her fairy wings back on and gave me her phone number again. I had to laugh despite being horny and irritated. Crazy bitches.

This story could go on a good ways; unknown to me at the time, that was the beginning of a 9 month relationship that would change my life, cost me my job, break up my band, end all my other relationships, and nearly get me killed. Everyone needs a wrecking ball in their life sometimes, if only to knock things down and clear your old life out for a fresh start. She was my wrecking ball.

It's a long story, but I'll just finish this segment by telling you how the night ended.

After the show, I was still thinking about that hot almost-sex in the truck, still feeling her touch and smelling her perfume on me, and a few drinks did little to relax me or reduce my horniness. I knew better, but I dug the little scrap of paper out of my jeans pocket and called her. She was still up and not surprised that I called. That should have been warning number two, but I wasn't thinking with my smarter head. :o

To make a long story short, I went to her place, we drank some warm sake out of little tiny cups she had, and took up where we left off in the truck, this time on her couch. Man, I might have had a little bit of beer goggles going on, but there was no denying she was beautiful. I couldn't decide what to look at: her amazing athletic body, her jet black hair, her perky breasts, or her legs that went on for miles. I decided to kiss every inch of her.

I had almost closed escrow on the deal, her eyes were wild and she was panting and thrusting against me, our clothes were in the way. I reached down to unbutton her jeans.

And then it happened. Again. She just stiffened up, froze, and got up. When she left the room I thought she was just going to do some female thing that was best not mentioned, so I waited. She never came back to the living room.

After a while, I called out to her that it was late and I was going home. She replied from a back room, "OK, see ya."

It was a mystery I wouldn't solve for months. And one I never should have investigated.

Terry D.

[GCDEF]

Originally posted by MrKnobs

It was a mystery I wouldn't solve for months. And one I never should have investigated.

Terry D.

If you ever quite music and science, you could make a killing as an author. :)

[fuzzball]

Man talk about blue, and your literary work was great. Your story left me wanting more.

[Bones]

Originally posted by MrKnobs
It was a mystery I wouldn't solve for months. And one I never should have investigated.

Once ya cross-over...:rolleyes: Suspect this amazon was packing more than sHe let on.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by GCDEF


If you ever quite music and science, you could make a killing as an author. :)

I don't have the imagination required for it. The stories I tell here on HC are things that really happened - I'm just recounting them. Making something interesting up is quite another skill.

Terry D.

P.S. Also I'm contemplating how to tell part 3 here. Part 3 contains information that is vital to the story but may be too off color for this forum. It reveals the secret hinted to in the first installment above.

I'll think of something.

[NoVaTa2iSt]

...You found out she was hung bigger than you?

[sysera]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


I'll think of something.

If you want to, you can e-mail it to me and I will host it on my webserver. ;)

[fuzzball]

I would love to read part 3.:D

[hankypanky]

I'll think of something

Once ya cross-over... Suspect this amazon was packing more than sHe let on.

Nah...lookit the evidence.

This story could go on a good ways; unknown to me at the time, that was the beginning of a 9 month relationship that would change my life, cost me my job, break up my band, end all my other relationships, and nearly get me killed

She's a pro. This one has it written all over her. She's a user AND she's smart. Get you hooked by always taking you to the edge then sending you back with ...."if you do this then I'll.....".

"If you call me then youcan f*** me..." <- she had you there
"If I had some money I could....."
"Your band doens't like me.....blah blah blah"
"Your mom doesn't like me...no more ____ until you ____"

[brikus]

To Mr Knobs : try it another way. If it scares her when you start unbuttoning her jeans, grab her hands and have her unbutton yours. Of even smoother...start unbuttoning yours first.

If with these tips you manage to get poon, you HAVE to send me pics of it ! :mad:

[Brian Krashpad]

Originally posted by Crustycabs
Here's one you all can use. Just fill in the blanks:

:D
***

I first noticed "her" during our next number, ____________________ .
Her name was __________________ and she was hot!



If you got her name, she wasn't a groupie!

BK

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by brikus
To Mr Knobs : try it another way. If it scares her when you start unbuttoning her jeans, grab her hands and have her unbutton yours. Of even smoother...start unbuttoning yours first.

If with these tips you manage to get poon, you HAVE to send me pics of it ! :mad:

That girl is long gone.

The last time I saw her, she kicked the door of her house out of it's frame, while balancing on the other leg in a cast.

That was enough for me.

Terry D.

[cavemanic]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


I don't have the imagination required for it. The stories I tell here on HC are things that really happened - I'm just recounting them. Making something interesting up is quite another skill.

Terry D.

P.S. Also I'm contemplating how to tell part 3 here. Part 3 contains information that is vital to the story but may be too off color for this forum. It reveals the secret hinted to in the first installment above.

I'll think of something.


Just curious...how do you think women like her get so good at manipulating? Is it cause they are raised by a mother that hates men?:confused:

[Tedster]

Originally posted by fritzgog13
Last January we played a gig at a local bar, I noticed a big breasted brunette watching me for the 1st set. I know us drummers are Damn Sexy but this chick was practically bangin' me with her eyes!:eek: So Inbetween sets I walked up to her and she bought me a drink... (Oh yah, you can see where this is going)



Actually, no, I didn't see where that was going at all. I thought you were going to say...

"She bought me a drink, and took me home and she grabbed my manhood, and I slid my hand up her thigh and...

SHE HAD A BIGGER DICK THAN ME..." :eek:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA....

[MrKnobs]

Part II. The Ritual

Now of course I've been cock teased before, plenty of times. Every guy has. That's why the phrase was invented and why it's always there in the back of our minds ready to apply to a variety of situations. Mostly those words are used in a conversation between men, though sometimes it's said directly to a woman, usually in anger.

But the underlying reason is always the same. It's a way of saying it isn't our fault we struck out and didn't get laid. We were led on, encouraged to believe it was coming, then suddenly and unexpectedly denied for no better reason than simple, premeditated cruelty on the woman's part. We didn't fail, we never had a chance. There is also the unstated premise of a point beyond which a man can turn back, and that a woman who takes a man beyond that self-defined and unmeasurable point somehow owes him completion of the job. Any woman who fails to do that is labeled a bitch, and more specifically, a cock tease.

Trouble is, it's rarely that simple. Often, a woman who does that is trying to have sex, sometimes desperately, but gets cold feet at the last moment for a variety of reasons a man generally isn't even vaguely aware of. Sometimes, it's as simple as a drunk woman coming to her senses at the last moment, or the guy turning her off in some way that was unanticipated. It might be a single coarse word, too rough a touch, body odor, beard stubble, lots of things. Calling her by the wrong name is a good one, though most guys will own up to that mistake and not blame it on the girl. Some guys (who bother to think about it at all) fear their dick must have been too small, but I doubt that happens often. At least I hope not!

Occasionally there is some deeper emotional baggage causing the problem, and that's when it gets interesting to me. Or maybe I was just really horny and hoping for the best.

In either case, here I was, allowing Gail to cock tease me, repeatedly getting hot 'n heavy but always freezing up when it came to the point of her clothes coming off. It was frustrating the hell out of me, but I love a good mystery even more than I love a good lay, so I was determined to find out what was going on.

My curiosity will kill me someday.

Gradually I entered into an odd little relationship with her, hanging out at her house a lot, with many makeout sessions, lots of dry humping stuff (does anyone really like that? Ouch!), but no release for me. :mad:

At first I thought her ritual wasn't happening to her satisfaction.

Guys who have gigged a lot know what I'm talking about. Girls that pick up musicians at bars and take them home often have a little ritual they must perform before sex. I've seen quite a few really strange ones.

My very first groupie was a big old girl (named Lisa, I think) who got me drunk off my ass after a show, consumed massive quantities of alcohol herself, yet was completely unaffected and seemingly dead sober. She took me to her house and at least exchanged a modest amount of conversation before bluntly saying, "Stay here with me tonight."

Drunk, I'm even hornier and stupider than I am sober, so of course I jumped for the biscuit with all the grace and poise of an old slobbering dog. :o

That's when I saw "the ritual" for the first time.

"Wait," she said, in a hushed, almost religious tone. She then put on an old vinyl LP, terribly worn with numerous pops and clicks. She played the Moody Blues "Knights in White Satin," and softly cried for a few minutes. Suddenly, she was back to herself and led me to the bedroom, where things got even stranger.

But that's a different story - maybe later.

Let's get back to Gail. You may recall that Gail had a little thing going with an elegant little Sake set when she first dragged me home. I thought, OK, this is the reason for everything, she needs this little ritual to proceed. I can hang with that.

The rituals, I've always thought, are a sort of sublimation. Substitute the man who is there for the man who is not. Few girls start out as bar flies taking home different musicians every night. They start out with hopes and dreams of love and white picket fences and family just like every other girl does.

Then life happens to them. Guys lie to them, relationships go sour, drugs get ingested, poorly paying jobs don't lead to dreams being fulfilled, all that. And most of all they never understand that it's all a game. The musicians are up on stage pretending to be rock stars (well, sometimes they actually ARE rock stars), the girls are squeezed up in the front in their tight little dresses showing as much cleavage as possible and screaming their little hearts out, all of us caught up in the game.

After the game is over, we musicians have to load the truck, grab a bite at IHOP or wherever, the girls go back home and to work or school the next day. Some of them do this for years and years. Some of us do too. We're all just lonely people trying to be happy, and not always being smart about it.

That's how I thought it was with Gail. The ritual is required because it makes everything OK. Some do a thing to remind themselves of a special love that was lost, with others it's a cleansing ritual. It's a sort of spiritual or superstitious connection between the last vestige of their girlish dreams and the reality of what's about to happen now. To put it bluntly, it makes "love" out of a f*ck.

I used to see that a lot, and it always made me sad. After a while, though, you realize you can't talk to them about the ritual, and you can't get inside it without ruining it for them. I have more stories about that, too.

And so I showed up night after night, drinking Gail's warm sake from her little china sake set, kissing her beautiful face and perfect startlingly white breasts, making out with her for extended periods on her old, worn couch in her little clapboard, tiny house with wood floors and old musty curtains, and an old brass bed with springs that squeaked loudly at the slightest provocation. I really, really, REALLY wanted to see how loud those springs could get, but it wasn't to happen just yet.

I was past being horny, this was now an obsession. It was a test of my will that I refused to lose.

A few shows later at a club, our soundguy Phil picked up a cute little waif of a girl that was three sheets to the wind and clearly good to go. Somehow Phil convinced Gail to let us all continue the party over at her house.

In a very short time Gail and I were lying on her bed making out while Phil was pounding the stuffing out of the little cute girl in the adjacent bedroom. The walls were like paper and all of us heard the slightest sounds, including the soft weeping from the young girl when Phil was done with her. I was a little concerned until I heard her sob out, "It's ok.... really.... I always cry when I come..."

Man, more ritual and dysfunction. And, of course, no real action from Gail for me. I wanted to run out into the street and scream, to pitch my guitars out into to the gutter and just never do anything like this again. Maybe get a real job and find some normal, undamaged people, if any were left. :(

But instead I just held Gail, who was now also softly crying, and we went to sleep. I woke up once hearing Phil leave out the front door (he had a girlfriend back at his apartment), and shortly thereafter the small girl (whose name I can't remember to save my life), came and crawled into bed with Gail and me. She wanted to be held, and not having a clue what to do, I just sort of draped an arm over her and went back to sleep.

There would be answers in the morning, but not the answers I wanted to hear.

Terry D.

[Tedster]

Well, now we're in suspense, waiting for the next chapter...

[JBJ]

just give us it in one go terry you cockteasing bastard :mad:

[fuzzball]

More..please, and you though she was a tease.:cool:

[Deef]

Isn't this how Mixerman got started? :cool:

Deef

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by Deef
Isn't this how Mixerman got started? :cool:

Deef

I think I might actually be older than Mixerman, if that's even possible. :o

In any case, I've been doing this on HC for about three and a half years. Since I'm a former live sound guy, most of my stories revolve around the insane life of a touring sound guy. You can read those HERE (http://acapella.harmony-central.com/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=17271)

But I always felt I should only post stories that had at least something to do with live sound gigs on that thread, and that excludes a lot of stories. I also don't want to do anything to get that forum mod'ed since it's one of the few that currently is not.

So far Lee hasn't slapped my wrist for these, and I won't go any raunchier than I have so far. There's a way to tell any story, including real world stories that involve sex without getting too coarse, I think.

It's still going to be a little touchy getting part III down without crossing the line, though. :o

Terry D.

[Mojambo]

Something tells me this is going more in the direction of a horror story than in the direction of a porno story. :o

If I was with some chick who just randomly started crying like that for no reason, I'd get the fuck out of there, fast.

[brikus]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


I think I might actually be older than Mixerman, if that's even possible. :o

In any case, I've been doing this on HC for about three and a half years. Since I'm a former live sound guy, most of my stories revolve around the insane life of a touring sound guy. You can read those HERE (http://acapella.harmony-central.com/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=17271)

But I always felt I should only post stories that had at least something to do with live sound gigs on that thread, and that excludes a lot of stories. I also don't want to do anything to get that forum mod'ed since it's one of the few that currently is not.

So far Lee hasn't slapped my wrist for these, and I won't go any raunchier than I have so far. There's a way to tell any story, including real world stories that involve sex without getting too coarse, I think.

It's still going to be a little touchy getting part III down without crossing the line, though. :o

Terry D.

I think that with your great writing abilities you can tell a lot without making it look like a porn novel. Don't worry and go ahead, it will be fine. :) :cool:

[InACanProductions]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


She wasn't a manipulator at all. I'll tell a little more of the story here.

When we left off, G was cock teasing me, repeatedly getting hot 'n heavy but always freezing up when it came to the point of her clothes coming off. It was frustrating the hell out of me, but I love a good mystery even more than I love a good lay, so I was determined to find out what was going on.

My curiosity will kill me someday.

And so it was that I entered into an odd little relationship with her, hanging out at her house a lot, many makeout sessions, lots of dry humping stuff (does anyone really like that? Ouch!), but no release for me. :mad:

At first I thought her ritual wasn't happening to her satisfaction.

Some of you guys who have gigged a lot know what I'm talking about. Girls that pick up musicians at bars and take them home often have a little ritual they must perform before sex. I've seen quite a few really strange ones.

There was a big old girl I'll call "L" who got me drunk off my ass after a show, consumed massive quantities of alcohol herself, was completely unaffected and seemingly dead sober. She took me to her house and at least exchanged a modest amount of conversation before bluntly saying, "Stay here with me tonight."

Drunk, I'm even hornier and stupider than I am sober, so of course I jumped for the biscuit with all the grace and poise of an old slobbering dog. :o

And then I saw "the ritual" for the first time.

"Wait," she said, in a hushed, almost religious tone. She then put on an old vinyl LP, visibly worn with numerous pops and clicks. She played the Moody Blues "Knights in White Satin," and softly cried for a few minutes. Suddenly, she was back to herself and led me to the bedroom, where things got even stranger.

But that's a different story - maybe later.

Let's get back to G. You may recall (or reread) that G had a little thing going with an elegant little Sake set when she first dragged me home. I thought, OK, this is the reason for everything, she needs this little ritual to proceed. I can hang with that.

The rituals, I've always thought, are a sort of sublimation. Substitute the man who is there for the man who is not. Few girls start out as bar flies taking home different musicians every night. They start out with hopes and dreams of love and white picket fences and family just like every other girl does.

Then life happens to them. Guys lie to them, relationships go sour, drugs get ingested, poorly paying jobs don't lead to dreams being fulfilled, all that. And most of all they never understand that it's all a game. The musicians are up on stage pretending to be rock stars (well, sometimes they actually ARE rock stars), the girls are squeezed up in the front in their tight little dresses showing as much cleavage as possible and screaming their little hearts out, all of us caught up in the game.

After the game is over, we musicians have to load the truck, grab a bite at IHOP or wherever, the girls go back home and to work or school the next day. Some of them do this for years and years. Some of us do too. We're all just lonely people trying to be happy, and not always being smart about it.

That's how I thought it was with G. The ritual is required because it makes everything OK. Some do a thing to remind themselves of a special love that was lost, with others it's a cleansing ritual. It's a sort of spiritual or superstitious connection between the last vestige of their girlish dreams and the reality of what's about to happen now. To put it bluntly, it makes "love" out of a f*ck.

I used to see that a lot, and it always made me sad. After a while, though, you realize you can't talk to them about the ritual, and you can't get inside it without ruining it for them. I have more stories about that, too.

And so I showed up night after night, drinking G's warm sake from her little china sake set, kissing her beautiful face and perfect startlingly white breasts, making out with her for extended periods on her old, worn couch in her little clapboard, tiny house with wood floors and old musty curtains, and an old brass bed with springs that squeaked loudly at the slightest provocation. I really, really, REALLY wanted to see how loud those springs could get, but it wasn't to happen just yet.

I was past being horny, this was now an obsession. It was a test of my will that I refused to lose.

One night at a club, our soundguy Phil picked up a cute little waif of a girl that was three sheets to the wind and clearly good to go. Somehow Phil convinced G to let us all continue the party over at her house.

In a very short time G and I were lying on her bed and Phil was pounding the stuffing out of the little cute girl in the adjacent bedroom. The walls were like paper and all of us heard the slightest sounds, including the soft weeping from the young girl when Phil was done with her. I was a little concerned until I heard her sob out, "It's ok.... really.... I always cry when I come..."

Man, more ritual and dysfunction. And, of course, no real action from G for me. I wanted to run out into the street and scream, to pitch my guitars out into to the gutter and just never do anything like this again. Maybe get a real job and find some normal, undamaged people, if any were left. :(

But instead I just held G, who was now also softly crying, and we went to sleep. I woke up once hearing Phil leave out the front door (he had a girlfriend back at his apartment), and shortly thereafter the small girl (whose name I can't remember to save my life), came and crawled into bed with G and me. She wanted to be held, and not having a clue what to do, I just sort of draped an arm over her and went back to sleep.

There would be answers in the morning, but not answers I wanted to hear.

Terry D.

I'm going to be late for work because I can't stop reading this story, but there's no ending. What happened next?

[cavemanic]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


She wasn't a manipulator at all. I'll tell a little more of the story here.


Terry D.


uhoh:( I hope it isn't what I think it is going to be

if only Australia could be half as exciting...I can't wait to get out of here and get in a more lively scene...

I totally here you about the underlining bagage women seem to cling to

[JBJ]

i'm goin to have to move my game along pretty quickly now. I'm working on boning a mates birds friend but if part 3 ends up some sort of mad stalker/wake up with your balls on your forehead woman scorned story it's goin to put me off messing her around :mad:

[Shamuspizzbutt]

You rule Terry! I'll add my voice to the plea for you to write a tell all. Name names, change the names, I don't care. I just want to hear more stories!

[MrKnobs]

Part III. Breakfast - and a rare insight into the life of a "groupie."

The strange night still very much in my mind, morning comes and the three of us get up and get on with our lives. If either girl thinks it odd that we all ended up in a weepy pile for the night, neither is inclined to talk about it. If anything, the two girls almost seem to be friends, though I'm pretty sure they've never met. There seems to be some sort of unspoken bond between them, in which I am clearly not included.

Lucia is sitting at Gail's tiny kitchen table with me as Gail whips up a huge pile of southern breakfast for us: juevos rancheros (spicy scrambled eggs for you northern types), bacon, grits. Way too much food, all of it delicious. Gail was a wonderful cook, I have to give her that. I looked up a few times and saw her smiling, singing to herself, strangely happy.

But mostly I was looking across the table at Lucia. She was very young, maybe 19. Five foot four at most, Hispanic with huge brown eyes and long silky jet black hair, petit and perky, very cute, extremely animated. Maybe 90 pounds soaking wet. She is wearing a little purple nightie thing that left very little to the imagination. For some reason, I was trying hard to erase the mental picture of Phil (who is a big guy) pounding this little doll of a girl a dozen feet from me just a few hours ago.

Suddenly I realize she is talking to me.

"I hope we weren't too loud last night, and that we didn't keep you guys up or anything. I get kinda loud, I really can't help it. And Phil's voice carries because it's deep, though he mostly just keeps telling me to be quiet. Like that's even possible! (laughs) Anyway, you guys were really quiet, I don't know how you can do that, we didn't hear you at all, so we sort of forgot you were there for a while."

Well, I know how we managed to be quiet, but of course I said nothing and let Lucia continue.

"Anyway, it was really cool of you guys to let us crash here. Sometimes it's hard for us to find a place to... be together. Phil has a girlfriend he lives with, that makes it complicated."

Now I'm curious, so I can't stay quiet.

"Lucia, you're welcome, but really this is Gail's place so you should thank her instead of me. Breakfast is going to be great too, by the way."

"And yeah, I know about Phil's girlfriend, I've met her many times. Phil and I are buds. Which is why I'm a little surprised by some of the things you just said. I thought you just met Phil tonight."

Her face went from confusion to surprise to a huge smile that started with her eyes lighting up and ended with a lovely, girlish laugh that made me like her despite my preconceptions.

"Terry, you think that Phil just picked me up at the show? You think I'm a groupie?"

More beautiful laughter. Gail, still in her Zen state of breakfast artistry, glances over at us and smiles lovingly. She can't hear what we're talking about, but she is happy that we're happy. This is how family breakfast is supposed to be, I guess.

Lucia continues, terribly amused by my confusion.

"Phil and I have been dating for a while. Actually I work with him at Wendy's, he's my manager. I think he's the coolest guy in the world, both at work and when we're alone. I love him, maybe. We just pretended to not know each other at the show last night to have a little fun, to spice things up. Which worked pretty great, as you probably noticed!"

This is too much for me. Reality is warping around me, I fumble for my bearings and my conservative upbringing kicks in as I go on autopilot.

"So you're OK with Phil having a live in girlfriend? And you think you might love him? Doesn't that bother you? And I see you with that crazy girl Janis at lots of shows, I just thought....."

"Terry, I'm not a groupie. And I'm not a child just because I'm short and young. I know what I'm doing, I know what will probably happen. I just like hanging out with Phil - he's fun! You know that, he says you guys are best friends. And I like hanging out with Janis; she's fun too. And you're right, she is a little crazy and a groupie but I like to go out and dance and meet people and just have fun and she likes to do that too. I LOVE to dance and I LOVE music. You guys have a great band, I go out to hear bands a lot. That's all."

Gail brings a ton of food to the table and with the incredible smells we suddenly realize we're starving and dig in. The food is delicious, Gail can seriously cook.

Lots of compliments and appreciation is lavished on Gail, both for the night's lodging and for the delicious breakfast. Gail is absolutely beaming as the breakfast goes well and a startling amount of food is consumed.

Gail abruptly turns serious and puts her hand on Lucia's.

"Honey, I couldn't help but hear you crying last night. Are you OK? Did your boyfriend hurt you?"

For a moment, Lucia is too busy wolfing down food to reply, but she shakes her head from side to side as if to emphatically say no. She looks for a moment as if she might orgasm just from the food, but the moment passes and she replies.

"Phil would never hurt me, and I'm sorry you had to hear all that. How do you stay so quiet when you....get off? I know it's weird, but I always cry afterwards. I'm not sad or hurt, it's just so.... intense.... I have to cry.... to release it, or something. It freaks everyone out who has ever been with me. But it's just me, I can't help it."

She smiles shyly, and there is silence at the table for a few minutes, just the clattering of forks on plates. The food is seriously good and I, at least, am a little embarassed. I finally break the silence and the awkwardness with something simple and considerate.

"Lucy (I heard Phil call her that), do you need a ride home? I can drop you wherever on my way to work."

Gail pipes in and offers a shower, saying there are some fresh clean towels on the bathroom rack. Lucia declines both the ride and the shower, revealing she has arranged for Janis to pick her up, who should be here any minute.

We finish eating and Janis drives up. Fortunately or unfortunately, she doesn't come in; the day was a little strange already. Lucia thanks Gail again, skips happily out to the car and disappears down the street with crazy Janis.

Helping Gail clear the table, I try to assimilate the day's events into some sort of reality my mind is comfortable with. I consider that what I've thought about groupies in the past might be naive. I run the little visual clips through my mind of the times I've seen Lucia and Janis at the shows, and I start to notice little things in the mental replay that I paid no attention to at the time. Little looks exchanged between Phil and Lucia, much craziness in Janis' behavior. I can't recall ever seeing Janis smile. Ever.

I decide Janis would be an interesting person to talk to. Boy, was I right. She was going to give me one of the strangest experiences of my life. More about that later.

Gail and I are doing dishes. She doesn't even own a dishwasher. She has a mysterious smile on her face, she hasn't even had a drink yet and it's 11 AM. Something is up, I think. I'll probably never find out what it is.

I'm wrong about that. As I'm drying a dish she's just washed, she leans over and kisses me sensually on my neck just behind the ear. I can feel her warm breath and little touches of her tongue as the tone of her voice becomes breathy. She says, "The children are gone, baby. It's just us here now. I wish your little friend would have taken a shower though, she seriously reeks! Maybe we do too. Let's take a long, slow bath and get really clean, OK?"

And she let her robe drop to the floor. It was the first time I had ever seen her completely nude. I was unable to speak, partly from surprise and partly from her perfect body. I tried to catch my breath, but I could not.

I followed her into the bathroom where she began to run a bath for us.

Terry D.

[TheAtomicJeff]

I raise my "bullsh*t" flag on this story. That's exactly what it is, a fictional story. :rolleyes: You're a good writer though. ;)

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by TheAtomicJeff
I raise my "bullsh*t" flag on this story. That's exactly what it is, a fictional story. :rolleyes: You're a good writer though. ;)

That's exactly what I'll say when one of the people in the story discovers this and calls their lawyer. :eek:

Honestly, you're wrong on both counts.

I'm not a good writer, I can't make up interesting stuff. This happened and these are real people. The dialog, of course, may not be precisely accurate as it happened some years ago. But the story is true.

Terry D.

P.S. And don't underestimate the HC forum demographic. Over in the Stupid Stories thread I've been contacted by two people who are in the stories. Fortunately, neither of them are pissed about it and one even joined in. I thought it was very interesting to hear the experiences we lived through together from his point of view.

[ratthedd]

Originally posted by MrKnobs

It was a mystery I wouldn't solve for months. And one I never should have investigated.

Terry D.

The fairy outfit wasn't a clue for you?

[ratthedd]

Is Phil still around at the LS&P forum? I think if we're ever gong to get to the punchline of this story we're gonna have to get it from a different source.


:mad::mad:

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by ratthedd
Is Phil still around at the LS&P forum? I think if we're ever gong to get to the punchline of this story we're gonna have to get it from a different source.


:mad::mad:

If you don't like it, I'll stop. :D

Just having a little emotional catharsis here, nothing to see, move along.....

Terry D.

[FlyingDeathPig]

:mad:

[guitarcapo]

I'm not going to start my groupie story until this one is finished. It seems to be killing the thread.........

[Hawkins]

Originally posted by Guitar Guru
I posted this when it happened last year, but I'll tell the tale one more time. Here's the short-short version.

Showed up to soundcheck. Sound guy brought his girlfriend and another female friend to the gig. This female friend was drunk already.
She thought we were some other band. But she kept professing her love for our music. During our set, she came on stage twice to "dance". Her first dance consisted of showing the crowd her bare ass.
Her second dance had her pulling her pants down to her ankles and rubbing her cooch on my picking hand in the middle of the song.


Don't believe me? View the video on our website......the link is below. :eek: :cool: :cool:

[WonderMalcolm]

Post the conclusion, Knobsy! The suspense is killing me!:mad: :D

[tamoore]

Damn it!


POST THE END! :mad:




:D

[holden_caufield9]

Ok, how did that ruin your life MrKnobs? Were the eggs really soylent green?

[JBJ]

i want to know what happens soooooo badly.

i need some of these stories mine are like: backstage toilet etc... this is like a film:eek:

[tamoore]

This is just like waiting between seasons of a TV drama, after the 'cliffhanger' ending.....


:(







Who shot JR already???? :mad: :mad:

[JBJ]

right it is 20 past 2 in the morning in my neck of the woods and there is no update.

if terry does put one up tonight i want it saved by someone so they can pm me it because even though t seems pretty mild just now, if he's so concerned about it getting deleted i'm sure it's goin to have something in it worthy.

*sets alarm for early morning to check back*

























































kidding:D


















































honest:confused:

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by tamoore
Damn it!

POST THE END! :mad:

:D

Sure, here it is, just for you:

"...and that's the last time I ever saw her. THE END."

You're welcome.

Terry D.

[:wave:]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


Sure, here it is, just for you:

"...and that's the last time I ever saw her. THE END."

You're welcome.

Terry D.

Thanks!

Now the bit in between this and the stuff you've already posted, please. :mad:

[Bajazz]

Originally posted by guitarcapo
I'm not going to start my groupie story until this one is finished. I have a couple of stories too, but I'll wait as well...

:D

[tamoore]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


Sure, here it is, just for you:

"...and that's the last time I ever saw her. THE END."

You're welcome.

Terry D.


This whole story has been the mental equivalent of a dick tease, and I sincerely doubt the validity of the events....

However...

It was pretty engaging, and you did beg us to run over from OJ to take a look - and I took the bait, hook and line.

I just wanted you to get to the part where you find out she was a man, baby!

Thanks for a good story up till this point. You really should be writing novels now that you're retired. You're good at it. I dislike reading anything that isn't technical in nature, but you had me reading this, and hoping to find the next post. ;)

Peace bro!

:D

[fuzzball]

More story please!:eek:

[THB]

Originally posted by pebblestar
HOT LESBIAN ACTION IN THIS STORY:

More to come…

Two teases in the same band?

:mad:

WTF, Pebs!?


:mad:

[fuzzball]

B...S...The flag has risen!

[gtrbass]

Dear penthouse forum,

I never thought this would actually happen to me, but ...

[MrKnobs]

Part IV: Sex at last - of a sort.

There are some very old houses in Bryan TX; Gail was living in one. She had no real shower, just one of those huge, ancient iron tubs with the stylized animal claw feet holding them up. Eagle talons? Cat feet? I don't know. Some slumlord in times past had added the ring thing up top where you could attach a curtain for a shower, and of course the spray head itself on the end of a rubber hose.

Gail had no use for showers. There was no shower curtain and the shower head itself glistened as brightly as the day it was made, it had probably never been used at all.

Gail did like candles. There were perhaps two dozen of them in all shapes and sizes around the tub and on the old wooden window sill above the tub. She proceeded to light them all as the tub filled with warm soapy water. She had put some sort of bubble bath in and the foam was approaching epic proportions. I took a long, appreciative look at Gail's amazing Amazon-like body, wondering if I'd ever see it again after we entered the bubble bath. As sexy as she was, it was hard to look away from the enigmatic and persistent smile on her face.

I noticed she had set out a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine, maybe while Lucia and I were eating breakfast. She was partial to that Portugese stuff, some sort of port that comes in an opaque bottle. She always had some of that around.

I was naked now too, but if she looked at me even once I didn't see it happen. She just finished lighting the last of the scented candles, kept smiling the sad and strange little smile, and silently slipped into the water. More ritual, I thought.

Without so much as a glance or a word, she beckoned me to follow and I was there, albeit a little less gracefully. There was plenty of room in the old tub for us both, with the exception of her long, slender legs which were bent slightly at the knees with her heels digging into my lower back, out of necessity.

I have to tell you I have my own hangups and I've never enjoyed taking baths - I'm a shower kind of guy. And especially not with a bunch of candles burning everywhere. But I was really looking forward to this one. She was so beautiful with the sad little smile. I wanted to touch her face and her heart and more. I wanted to see her smile without the sadness in it.

I was a little freaked out, but the wine helped with that. If she was nervous, she didn't show it. She drank her share with obvious relish, as we soaked in the warm scented water.

We began to bathe each other, face to face, carefully at first. Her motions were smooth and practiced, mine were clumsy. I was in my twenties at the time, and my arousal was obvious and almost painful in its urgency. It was taking a lot of willpower on my part to stay on my side of the tub.

Her soapy touch eventually worked its way down to where I wanted it to go, and I thought I would explode immediately. But each time I almost did, she squeezed gently at the base and I lost the urge for a few minutes. No one had ever done this to me before, I had never even heard of it. She must have done that three or four times.

"Karezza," she said with a playful smile.

I couldn't stand any more foreplay, my hand under the bubbles sought to return the favor. Her hand found mine and stopped me. "Not yet," she whispered.

She pulled me up out of the tub, we towelled each other off, and she led me to the bedroom. I was as ready as any man has ever been - or so I thought.

Now, finally, the intensity was there. We grappled passionately for a few minutes, all my pent up desire and frustration coming down to an irresistable desire to enter and possess her. I started to do just that and she said, "Not.... there. I'm.... broken. I want you to do the... other thing. Please. It won't hurt me, it's what I want. Please."

:eek:

OK, I won't tell you I had never done that before. My high school sweetheart was actually a little kinky and into that sometimes. I knew how to do it, it's not all that dirty, and if you're slow and careful very little pain is involved. But I never really liked it or saw the point of it. My Catholic upbringing, maybe.

Thoroughly confused now, all I could stammer out was one syllable words: "What? But... Why?" :confused:

Her voice turned rough and she almost shouted, "Shut up and do it!" Her tone said it all, and I obeyed.

I did it. We did it. :o

We did it several times over the next four hours or so. She climaxed several times, not shy at all about touching herself in the process, which I seemed to be forbidden to do. :mad:

I didn't care anymore, I got mine. Repeatedly.

My lust cleared away, I knew we desperately needed to talk. I had so many questions and suddenly I remembered that I barely knew this girl. But I also had a belly full of wine, and the profound peace and exhaustion intense sex brings.

Time enough in the morning. We went to sleep in each other's arms, sweaty and spent.

Terry D.

[tamoore]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


I started to do just that and she said, "Not.... there. I'm.... broken.

Terry D.



:eek: :eek: :eek:


I still don't believe it, but it sounds cool! :)


Thanks for the finish ;)

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by tamoore


:eek: :eek: :eek:

I still don't believe it, but it sounds cool! :)

Thanks for the finish ;)

It's far from finished.

Unless Lee decides it's finished! :eek:

That was the hardest segment to tell in PG fashion. I hope I succeeded. The rest is easy, and the most interesting part of the story.

:)

Terry D.

[tamoore]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


It's far from finished.

Unless Lee decides it's finished! :eek:

That was the hardest segment to tell in PG fashion. I hope I succeeded. The rest is easy, and the most interesting part of the story.

:)

Terry D.


I think it was tasteful.... :o


I've never heard anyone describe 'broken' sex before, without using the 'A' word :)

[emdub123]

Absolutely fascinating story, I may not get a single thing done at work today, waiting for the next installment...

[MrKnobs]

Part V: Revelations and damned lies

These are not the words a man longs to hear when he wakes up in the arms of his lover: "Thank God you're small."

:eek: :eek: :eek:

But they are the first words Gail said to me the morning after our extended love making session. :o

Completely untrue, and I said as much to her in no uncertain terms. I pointed to my insulted member, I cited statistics, I invited her to fetch a tape measure, I swore to her I had never heard another partner issue these terrible words about me.

And I demanded that she take them back! :mad:

Well, of course words can never be taken back, they can only be amended. And what fool believes an amendment he demands?

She was terribly amused by my insecurity, but she did her best to soothe and explain. "I'm sorry, baby," she laughed, "That was clumsy of me. I didn't at all mean to hurt your feelings. You're a very considerate lover, and you're perfect - for what I want. It's just that my ex husband was.... huge. Huge is not good when it comes to this."

Slap in the face number two hidden in that paragraph.

"You have a HUSBAND? Are you going to tell me next he's hiding in the closet right now? When were you going to tell me about that?" I'm starting to freak.

"EX-husband, Terry. Don't worry, it was his idea and he doesn't want me around. He won't come around here."

Oh. Well, at least we were now having some honest communication, as unpleasant as that might be.

"So what's with the 'I'm broken' thing? Is it your time of month or something?"

She frowns. "You're really not very observant, you know? You've seen how skinny I am. Did you notice I didn't eat much of anything at yesterday's breakfast? I'm anorexic, bulemic sometimes. I haven't had a period in a couple of years, that happens to women when we get too thin. And thanks for not asking whether I'm on the pill, that was considerate and responsible!"

I'm shamed, but not deterred. "Apparently we're not using the part of you that requires a pill. And you haven't answered about the 'broken' comment." (I'm thinking gyn procedure, probably because I was a grad student working in a hospital a couple years back).

At least she didn't fake any tears this time. "My ex gave me a little parting gift, an infection. The doctor had me swallow half a dozen penicillin tablets for it but I'm not supposed to have sex for a week so it can clear up."

I clutch at my crotch in an involuntary defensive gesture. I'm suspicious. "What kind of antibiotic regimen uses a single dose? How can that work?"

She shrugs. She's just doing what the doctor ordered.

Loud sigh from me, externally and internally. I'm infatuated like some stupid schoolgirl with this woman I don't even know. What other revelations can I expect?

I didn't have long to wait for them to materialize.

In a conciliatory mood, Gail cuddles up to me and runs her fingers through my long musician hair. She says, "I'll bet your hair would be beautiful if we washed it properly."

Great, now my hygeine AND my manhood are under the microscope. I reach in my mental pocket and pull out my primary weapon, sarcasm.

"Niiiice. I bet you tell these sweet things to all the musicians you pick up."

I'm expecting indifference or anger, but instead she laughs so hard I almost expect her to convulse. For the first time I notice how thin she really is.

"Terry, honey, seriously, thanks for the laugh. I haven't laughed that hard in a really long time. I love that the most about you, how you make me laugh despite myself. I guess you think every girl is a groupie. I didn't pick you up at that club because you're a musician, I went to the club because I knew you'd be there. All I have to do to find you anytime I want to is look in the paper to see when and where your band is playing."

"I've been waiting patiently for you to remember me, but I guess it's not gonna happen, Mr. rock star! (laughs some more) I've been watching you since you used to work the late shift at the university computer center. You and those other two geek programmers that always come in around midnight. I was one of the paper tearers there. I think computer programmers are very intelligent and sexy, and I had the biggest crush on you! But you never even seemed to know I existed!"

:eek:

Now I suspect I'm being had and made fun of in the process. :mad:

But I do remember her. More filled out, less skinny. Short hair. Suddenly it all comes into focus.

"You! Sure, I remember you. You were hooked up with that tall, day shift programmer (this is an vile insult coming from a scientific programmer), what was his name? Wiley? Yeah, Wiley. Wiley the suit 'n tie accounting programmer. I went to some party where the two of you were together. I thought, 'What a lucky son of a bitch.' We all thought that! What the hell happened to Wiley? You guys were tight! Is he your ex? And, are you crazy? I was never a g*d d*mned computer programmer, I was a graduate research assistant working on my thesis! I own two companies now, I'm not a student anymore!"

She doesn't flinch at my agitation, she looks me dead in the eyes. "I know all that. I know lots of things about you. I know where you work, when you work, which girls you hang out with and sometimes live with. I cut out the newspaper article about your business. I can sing the words to every song your band plays, I know which songs you solo on and which ones the other guy does."

Me: "His name is Wayne."

Her: "It doesn't matter what his name is, not to me. All that matters is you."

Oh. My. God. :eek:

More to come shortly.

Terry D.

[pondo sinatra]

This has officially gotten creepy.

[MrKnobs]

Part VI. Candy and Sandy: Painful truths about myself

At this point, I have been smacked hard by reality right between the eyes. I wonder which things I've just heard are lies, and which are damned lies. I have become hopelessly infatuated with a beautiful stalker who is filled with secrets that are changing by the minute. I thought I had signed on for some impersonal sex with a sexy groupie, and instead I find I was never in control of the situation at all.

A sane man would have bolted for the door at that point. I am not a sane man.

It's time for some back story on myself, so you can understand why what happens next happens the way it did, and why I didn't hit the EJECT button much sooner.

Like many musicians in bands, I took up playing partly because it was a way to belong, to be cool. At least, I thought it was. I was a science dork in high school, in my case an all male Catholic high school, with ROTC. Uniforms, academics, no girls. Inadequate socialization, to say the least. :(

But no social life leaves a lot of time to practice guitar and fantasize. Somehow, I managed in find myself in the most popular band in our small town, making money hand over fist playing AC/DC covers along with John Cougar tunes, Thin Lizzy, etc. You get the idea. We were HUGE fish in a small town. Everybody loved us and girls came out to see us in droves. I was in heaven.

I could have cared less about the money, in fact I just threw the piles of gig cash in my pinball machine and waited for them to accumulate. Every time I had a couple thousand, I'd blow it on a guitar, some PA or lighting gear, or, my favorite, chasing girls.

To me, being in the band was part of my identity as a human being. It was my passport to cool, the credentials of my humanity. As long as I was in the band, I could get girls. In fact, girls would come to me, I didn't have to do anything at all. Well, not anything but keep my mouth shut so I wouldn't reveal how uncool I actually was. Let the guitar do the talking, I figured.

And Gail was so stunningly beautiful. My entire life up to that point, I had never had a truly beautiful girlfriend. I wasn't good looking enough for that, that was for other guys, not me. But mostly, I wasn't cool enough for that. I wanted so desperately to change that fact, and, for a while I thought I had.

And that's what takes us back to this story, which happened a year or so prior to Gail:

One night we were doing a show in Brenham TX, which is an unremarkable town except for two facts: (1) it has a large junior college which provides a ready audience for any rock band passing through, and (2) it's home to some of the friendliest, horniest girls in Texas. Needless to say, our band always looked forward to playing there.

On this particular night, there were two of these lovely young ladies sitting by themselves at a table right in front of the stage. Now it was always a band tradition to engage in interactive play with our young female audience members, usually accomplished by extending our guitar necks down to the point where they could almost touch them, exhorting them to "show us your boobs," and other similar artistic acts. In fact, we did that at each and every show with good results.

For some reason, I decided to make an ass out of myself in a more creative manner and simply stepped out onto their table, ripping some sort of solo with my guitar neck down, and of course exhorting them to "Show us your boobs!" Far from being horrified or leaving, they seemed to be entertained so I took a risk and sat down with them at the end of the number. I flashed the three finger sign to my bandmates, which meant "play three piece without me while I change a string" except that I hadn't broken a string. (We had special songs set aside so that the show could continue if any one of us was momentarily incapacitated). My bandmates glared at me and complied. They were good at glaring.

The girls seemed quite taken with me, and more than a little inebriated. They scribbled their phone no. for me (roommates) and invited me to a party at their place after the show. Their names, allegedly, were Candy and Sandy.

Now this was what I got into rock'n'roll for! Hot damn! I was cool at last! :cool:

After the crowd cleared out, I made a little speech to my bandmates. I told 'em I was the guy who always stayed until the load out was complete while someone else always had some urgent matter to attend to. Well, tonight I've got an urgent matter to attend to, and you guys can load it all up without me. OR, you can leave it and I'll pack it in the morning in which case I quit.

In short, I made a compete ass of myself.

Off to see Candy and Sandy, exciting studly rock star that I imagined myself to be.

Arriving at their pad, I was surprised to find no party in progress. In fact, even Candy, the primary object of my lust was nowhere to be seen. Sandy was sitting alone on the couch in their sparsely furnished old house. I've always thought when life gives you lemons, make lemonade, so I promptly set to chatting Sandy up.

Several times in the conversation, I asked where Candy had made off to. Sandy was discreet, but behind a closed door a gentleman who, unknown to me, was at that time in bed with Candy heard my words and became upset. A few muted angry words were exchanged between the two of them and suddenly he burst forth with his shirt half on and pulling his pants up, still yelling at Candy. I thought he was going to kick my ass on the spot but he was intent only on getting out the door.

I followed him out onto the porch only to find him still half undressed and sparking up a doob. I started to explain that I'd only heard about a party, I didn't... I wouldn't... etc... He said, and I quote, "No man, it's not you, it's these bitches." We shared a couple of drags off the joint and he left.

Now comes the part I will remember for the rest of my life.

I went back inside and resumed trying to pick up Sandy. After a while, I realized Candy was calling me from her bedroom. Like an idiot, I went in there to see what she wanted. She was totally naked, except for the sheet which she wasn't being very careful about. She asked me to rub her neck, and I could do nothing but comply. Suddenly, she pulled me down and her intent was obvious.

Believe it or not, here's what I said: "Now hold on, I don't know what's going on here, but I didn't come over to cause any trouble for anyone. I just thought you were cute when I met you at the bar, and was hoping to talk with you some more. Then, maybe, if we hit it off, we could have dinner or something later."

She stared at me in shock for a millisecond, then pushed me away roughly. She looked me straight in the eyes and said, "What are you? Some kind of f#@*ing nice guy? You better just get the f%$# out of here!"

I felt like I was hit with a pole axe. I just turned and walked out without a word, right past Sandy, got in my truck and drove back to College Station where the band kept our stuff in a storage locker. My bandmates were still there unloading and they had great sport at my expense. "Hey Stud! What happened? Struck out? Already done? etc... etc.."

My dick was in the dirt. I was depressed for at least a month. Here I was, a nice guy (I can still hear her saying that which such contempt), pretending to be some sort of low rent rock star, and fooling nobody but myself. What a loser idiot I am.

I promised myself I'd remember that lesson as long as I lived. From now on, I'll just be myself no matter what. I don't need the three A's (attention, affirmation, and affection) from people who don't like me as I am. There are plenty of people who will. Yeah!

Yeah, right. :rolleyes:

It was less than a year later, and now I was with Gail, trying desperately to convince myself (and her) that I was cool.

Terry D.

[Hawkins]

Originally posted by THB


Two teases in the same band?

:mad:

WTF, Pebs!?


:mad: :D :D :D

[WonderMalcolm]

Does your crotch still burn, Terry?:o :D

[Angry Grimace]

Why does everyone assume Terry's lying? When has he lied or made up a bunch of crap in his last 15,000 (he has like 8000 more) posts? He's never seemed anything but honest to me. Why would he make it up? To gain "cool" points on the internet? Despite the fact that he has a website and band and identified himself personally?

Tell the rest of the story, it's a lot more interesting than my life :o

[WonderMalcolm]

Originally posted by Angry Grimace
Why does everyone assume Terry's lying? When has he lied or made up a bunch of crap in his last 15,000 (he has like 8000 more) posts? He's never seemed anything but honest to me. Why would he make it up? To gain "cool" points on the internet? Despite the fact that he has a website and band and identified himself personally?

Tell the rest of the story, it's a lot more interesting than my life :o

I don't really think he's lying for the sole reason not many people, especially ones on a freaking guitar forum, could make that up.

[fuzzball]

More please..............please......I feel your pain.

I used to feel uncool, and music was my escape. I went from a who are you to a important someone real fast. During my freshman and sophmore year of highschool (I wont say how long ago that was), I couldent get any to save my life (I was the nice guy). Then I decided to start playing in bands (I had practiced for years without telling people at school). I became popular over night. I had girls throwing themselves at me, I must admit I felt powerful and full of pride. Then realism hit when I met a particular person, she changed my life, she liked my music but she saw past it and was more interested in me.
I had never even knew she existed thought I had seen her around for 2 years, she was even friends with many of my friends, but I was to self absorbed and busy getting popular tail to notice. Thankfuly I woke up and noticed her. I married her later and we are very happy together and she still supports my music.

[d0zerz]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


Gotta work a little.

I'll come back to this thread, like a dog to its vomit. :o

Terry D.

If you are makin' this shit up (which I don't think you are) ...you should quit the science gig (which I guess would also be made up :D) and start writing.

...these tales read like a catcher in the rye style examination. The brutally honest introspection, while retrospective, is incredibly entertaining! :)

[fuzzball]

Panting in anticipation......

[squealie]

Originally posted by MrKnobs
Part VI. Candy and Sandy: Painful truths about myself



I'm pretty sure the same thing happened to me.

[ratthedd]

...so one time I was busy banging this chick in some hick Texas town and this big dude with long hair came in to her house asking her roommate where the girl was that I was busy with and it really pissed me off 'cause I had already paid her up front.

Anyway, she told me to f-ck off since I couldn't get erect anyway and I said I wanted my money back but she screamed at me to leave. So I took a couple of joints off her bedside table and left while trying top pull my pants up.

The next guy seemed alright, and came out on the porch asking if I was alright. I told him everything was cool, but the problem was with those two hookers in the run down house. We lit up a couple of joints and then I left.

I wonder whatever happend to that long haired freaky guy..?


:D:D

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by ratthedd
...so one time I was busy banging this chick in some hick Texas town and this big dude with long hair came in to her house asking her roommate where the girl was that I was busy with and it really pissed me off 'cause I had already paid her up front.

Anyway, she told me to f-ck off since I couldn't get erect anyway and I said I wanted my money back but she screamed at me to leave. So I took a couple of joints off her bedside table and left while trying top pull my pants up.

The next guy seemed alright, and came out on the porch asking if I was alright. I told him everything was cool, but the problem was with those two hookers in the run down house. We lit up a couple of joints and then I left.

I wonder whatever happend to that long haired freaky guy..?


:D:D

My hair fell out. :(

:D

Terry D.

P.S. You were right about them bitches. :mad:

[MrKnobs]

Part VII. Frozen Snakes, Groupies and Fireplaces - The Calm Before the Storm

I don't think I've ever met anyone who hasn't heard the joke about the man who finds a frozen snake and takes it home to thaw it out by his fireplace, then of course gets bitten by the snake in gratitude. As the kindly man lies dying, the snake always delivers the moral of the story by saying something matter of fact like, "Well, you knew I was a snake when you took me in." We all laugh and nod at the joke, because we know in our bones that's exactly what life is like.

And then we go right out and ignore the lesson. We put aside all our experience and believe what we want to believe about people and relationships. We just throw caution to the wind and hope for the best. It's really all we can do.

That's what I did with Gail. Hell, I didn't just take her in to thaw out by my fireplace, I wrapped her around my neck afterwards for all my friends and associates to see and admire. Everyone must have thought I'd lost my mind. I saw all the problems and emotional baggage she was carrying, but damn, I was just the man to fix her up. Because that's what I do, by golly, I fix people. Me and Jesus, that's what we do, yessir. Jesus is a little better at it, sure, but I'm working hard to catch up. I'm such a fucking idiot!

I moved in with her.

I wanted to be right there on the jobsite, 24/7. Fixing Gail up was going to require a serious time commitment. Besides, as crazy as it may sound, I was falling in love with her, whoever "her" was.

The first and most obvious problem was that Gail lived in near poverty. Her tiny, old rented house was in pretty bad shape. Much of it was falling down at any given time, the fixtures were old and funky (though she kept everything spotlessly clean), and, because the house was open to the world in probably a thousand places, it had a recurring insect problem which was particularly disgusting at night when I'd occasionally wake up to find a large roach running over my face.

I doubt that Gail ever noticed this particular problem because she slept like the dead each night, probably due the frightening amount of cheap wine she drank every evening before bed. I marked "alcohol problem" down on my to-do list for later, and got back to working on the underlying economic problems.

I learned the decrepit little house rented for $250/month, utilities not included. It was all Gail could afford, despite working two jobs. The check was mailed each month to some unknown slumlord or estate with a PO box. Whoever owned the place never answered the phone number Gail had for them, much less showed up to repair anything. Perfect. I could remodel/repair the house any we chose and the owner would never know, much less care. I refused to live, even part time, in squalor.

Gail herself was still pretty much a mystery at this point. Everyone has a routine, and hers seemed uncomplicated. Every evening she'd come home from her day job at a rental place, whip up some dinner, and start drinking. She also worked evenings a couple nights per week as a bouncer at a Northgate bar, where tons of students from the university would congregate and get rowdy each night. I wondered how a tall, skinny girl who looked like a model could work as a bouncer. It was yet another mystery about her to be investigated.

In any case, whether she stayed in and drank, or came home later and drank, we'd usually end the evening fucking like rabbits on her squeaky old brass bed. She was an exceptionally kind and generous lover, and extremely skilled. I had had many partners by this time in my life, but none before who had so many things to teach me and who seemed to take such joy in doing it. I was her willing student.

In addition to all the strange ways we had sex, she would even occasionally allow me to enter her in the normal way, usually when she was more than a little drunk - but not very often. Which was strange, because when we did that she'd almost always have an immediate and intense orgasm and then not want to be touched or held afterwards. She'd just become upset and go to sleep. More mystery, and something she would never talk about.

You learn a lot about someone by living with them. If you're living with them in their place, their home and possessions speak volumes about them also. I never did much snooping around, though perhaps I should have. In any case, many of Gail's meager possessions were on obvious display practically begging to be interrogated.

Of course there was the little porcelain sake set, her ritual device. If only it could speak! What tales might it tell, of unknown numbers of men seduced and bewildered by her hot and cold abruptness, of dry humping and frustration witnessed on her threadbare sofa, of candles and bubblebaths and love and rage and huge breakfasts and groupie friends and drunkenness and confused musicians trying to be cool long enough to get laid by this fascinating and lovely mess of a woman? I could only imagine, simultaneously drawn to and repulsed by the thought.

I waited, and cleared my mind to listen, but the porcelain refused to speak to me. For now, it was keeping her secrets. There were Japanese characters from its underside that I could not read but carefully copied onto paper to show our saxophonist who was Japanese. Maybe they told the story of her life, or at least a chapter of it.

There were also her martial arts trophies, which explained the bouncer job. Unlike the sake set, their message was clear. Gail had achieved a seventh degree black belt in Aikido, and had done very well in numerous competitions. I guess that explained the bouncer job, though her being some sort of a badass ninja chick was hard to wrap my mind around. I really, really should have paid attention to that.

Of course there were also a few photographs on display. Most showed Gail looking younger and healthier, with various good looking guys. One I recognized as Wiley, the programmer guy I had casually known while I was in school. Another showed Gail in martial arts robes, next to a very buff man in similar attire. Gail was beaming in the photo but the man just looked stoic and grim. I was pretty sure I had never met him.

A third, framed picture showed Gail topless on an enormous motorcycle. Amazon though she was, she looked tiny atop the huge machine. In the photo, she was clearly proud and unashamed of her nakedness and that, at least, matched the Gail I knew.

I stared at the picture and her amazing tits for a while, and wondered how I could be so intimate with someone I didn't even remotely know the history of. But mostly I wished five o'clock would come, because I badly wanted to touch her. I was under no illusion that she would talk to me about any of this, but maybe if my skin was pressed up closely to her skin for long enough, the information would just somehow flow from her soul into mine, and no talking would be necessary.

I also had the strong urge, as lovers do, to show "us" to the world. Against all common sense, I was happy and had found peace, if only for a moment. I wanted to share that with my friends and bandmates, I wanted the world to see this beautiful woman on my arm. I wanted to show the world that I was finally cool, she was the indisputable proof I had been looking for all my life.

I was happy and proud. It was the calm before the storm that would change my life forever.

Terry D.

[hammergjh]

Damn fine bit of writing Terry.

[Angry Grimace]

This is starting to turn into a novel. :D

[David Simpson]

Okay Terry.......you got me hooked too......
Sounds very familiar to some of my doings of the past...:)
Keep going please. :D

[MrKnobs]

Part VIII. Dead Man Walking - "Red"

It's not even remotely possible for a beautiful young woman to be alone in the world. There is always an entourage of sorts, loosely trailing behind and in front of them as they move through life. Family is a given. Exes are a given. But for a beautiful girl, the scope is much wider.

Would be boyfriends, guys pretending to be platonic friends while waiting to make their move, occasional fuck buddies to be used during dry spells, coworkers who want to be cohabitators, other girls who pretend to be best friends but who are secretly jealous or just want to ride the coattails of the prettier, more popular girl, they're all in the entourage that swarms around a pretty young woman. She is the sun and the others are planets orbiting around her, until she burns out or cools off and they're forced to seek warmth and stability elsewhere.

As her lover, each and every damn one of them are jealous and suspicious of you. Like a pack of dogs harassing a lion, they're biding their time, waiting for you to turn your back, show a weakness, make a mistake. You're the lover, centerstage in the spotlight of her life, but they've all seen her lovers come and go and they're still there. They assume you'll be no exception.

I met Red because I was working on Gail's house, and that was his turf I was stepping on. Red was a big dude, strong, wiry, and muscular. He had the weathered look of a man who had worked with his hands outdoors for all of his life. His skin was like wrinkled, tanned leather, his fists like carved and stained wood. I immediately got the feeling he'd have liked to use them on me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I met him one sunny afternoon while replacing some of the wood siding on Gail's rent house. It was that old tongue and groove stuff they never use anymore, real, solid wood in planks that overlap and are notched to hang over the board below. Not the cheap textured plywood siding or particle board crap they use these days. Gail's house must have been 50 years old, and despite evidence of a complete lack of maintenance in recent years, in generally sound structural condition. Someone, long dead, had built that house with care and craft. But these boards were rotten, and they were letting insects in. I was replacing them, and my mind was blank, just doing physical labor in the sun as God intended men to live.

So I didn't notice right away when Red drove up in his old primer coated Ford pickup truck and walked up the cracked sidewalk to confront me.

"You don't need to do that," he hollered out in a deep, rough voice, standing about twenty feet from me with his hands on his hips.

"Well somebody needs to," I replied, "and it doesn't look like the landlord is going to show up anytime soon. Say, Red, YOU aren't the landlord by any chance, are you?"

He stared at me for almost a full minute before he replied. He seemed to be thinking, and having some trouble with the process. "No, I ain't the damn landlord. I just look after Gail a little bit now and then, and fix things up around here for her when she'll let me. I work with her at the rental company. And who the fuck might you be?"

That initiated an automatic response from me, causing me to step forward closing the gap between us, smile, and offer a handshake to the big redheaded roughneck. "Oh hey, I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Terry, I'm Gail's... friend. I'm living here for a while, periodically, sorta. What can I call you?"

He didn't accept the handshake or reply immediately. He just looked me in the eye dubiously. Just as I was sufficiently embarassed to start withdrawing my hand, he grabbed it so firmly that tears started to well up in my eyes, which I think he noticed and was pleased by. He didn't say he was happy to meet me, he didn't even tell me his name. He said, "Well, alright. We got some work to do. Let's get it done."

Red didn't talk much, but he was a hell of a carpenter. What little he said was mostly derogatory or irritated comments about my carpentry. In fact, he ripped out a section that I had already replaced and rebuilt it to his satisfaction. Occasionally he'd venture some working man philosophy like "Takes just as long to do the goddamned job right as to do it half-assed, " or "If you hit the fuckin' nail instead of the board the job'd be a lot easier," stuff like that.

Mostly I shut up and did what he told me. He clearly knew what he was doing better than I did.

It was a hot, humid day in East Texas and both of us took our shirts off at some point. I think he was mildly disgusted by my pasty white chest and arms, but I was far more interested in what his shirtlessness revealed. Right down the center of his leathery tanned chest was a long, white scar running from his neck to his sternum. There were numerous round scars to either side, about the size of a surgical drainage tube, I thought.

I should have shut up and kept working, but my curiosity was piqued as usual. "Looks like you had a bypass operation or something," I ventured.

"Naw," he said, not looking at me. "I used to work in the bar where Gail works, I had a bad accident. I don't work there no more. I'm OK, though. Sometimes I can't catch my breath, that's all."

And that was the last thing he said to me that day before we finished up the woodwork and he drove off. I hadn't followed up on his comment because I didn't need to. Now I knew who and what he was, and I had another piece of the puzzle that was Gail.

When you live in a small town, as we did, you kinda know everything about everybody. Everyone else is just a couple of handshakes away, and a little bit of gossip away. Most of the time, nothing much earth shattering happens in a small town, but when it does, everyone hears about it.

I remembered, back when I was a student, that a big guy had been shot in one of the Northgate bars, next to campus. The story was, he was trying to protect a girl from some drunk, pissed off boyfriend. Things like this didn't happen every day or even every decade in our small town, so it was the talk of the town for weeks. Supposedly, Red (if it was Red) had inserted himself between the girl and the gunman who was holding a .22 caliber pistol, and announced sternly (I could almost hear him saying this), "If you shoot me with that little sum'bitch and I find out about it..."

Whereupon he was promptly shot twice in the chest and was unable to finish his sentence. He did what most people in that situation do, he fell over backwards and died. Bled out in the sawdust, right on the barroom floor.

But unlike most people that happens to, Red didn't stay dead. The EMTs got there really quick (it's a small town) and worked on him until they got a pulse and breathing again. After a lot of surgery, and a long stay in the hospital, Red got a second chance at life.

I wondered if Red was that guy, and Gail was the girl. Maybe I had just shaken a dead man's hand.

But I didn't wonder at all about what Red was up to with Gail. Their relationship was as ancient as humanity itself. Red was an older man with conflicting feelings of romantic and paternal affection, both attracted to and wanting to protect the younger woman, unwilling to express his true feelings at the risk of being excluded from her life altogether. He was, for now at least, settling for a role on the periphery of her life, part of her entourage, wishing he could be in the center and resenting those who are there for the short time they are there. Secure in the knowledge that they will come and go, while he will stay. Poor bastard, took a bullet for her, maybe.

When Gail got home she of course noticed the new section of siding and knew she was supposed to heap some praise on me, which she did lavishly. That was a good opening for me to talk about Red, who after all had done most of the work and deserved the credit.

She wasn't at all surprised. She said, "Yeah, he usually takes care of stuff like this before it gets too far. I think he's been feeling poorly lately, though. But he must have liked you to let you work with him and finish the job. He won't work with just anybody, he has a lot of pride."

"Gail, he liked me so much he wouldn't even tell me his fucking name!"

She just shrugged. "He didn't tell you his name because you guessed it, it's Red. That's what everybody calls him."

I sucked in a deep breath and took the plunge. "Gail, did Red work with you at the bar? Is he that guy I read about in the paper a while back?"

She frowned and looked down at her feet. "Yeah, some asshole shot him. It was something about a girl, I think. That chickenshit is lucky I wasn't working that night, I'd have killed him and there wouldn't have been enough left of him for the hospital to put back together. I'm dead serious."

A couple of unreadable emotions flickered briefly across her face, then she abruptly lit up again. "I'm really hungry, long day at work. I'm horny, too. I've been thinking about you all day! Wanna eat or fuck first?"

I can't remember which we decided.

Terry D.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by Angry Grimace
This is starting to turn into a novel. :D

Keep in mind I'm just writing this on the fly, stream of consciousness stuff, no editing, no notes, no outline.

I will make it better later when I switch my editor in. Right now I'm just getting it all out while it's flowing.

Thanks for reading. :)

Terry D.

[hammergjh]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


Keep in mind I'm just writing this on the fly, stream of consciousness stuff, no editing, no notes, no outline.

I will make it better later when I switch my editor in. Right now I'm just getting it all out while it's flowing.

Thanks for reading. :)

Terry D.

You're doing a damn fine job here, Terry. Keep it up!

[BechtelChris]

More please, I enjoy your writing and your story.

[Deny]

I'm just posting to turn e-mail notification on for this thread. Damn ït Terry, you got me hooked too! Excellent writing, you should put enough of this story together and get it published.

[atc3434]

Terry, if I get the time (college, its just a matter of not doing enough of the stuff you're supposed to, right?) I'm going to compile all these stories, these deserve to be archived. I've been a silent follower in the stories in the PA forum from a WHILE ago, and now this. You really are a gifted writer.. that bit about a beautiful girl and her following, her being the sun, etc etc.... pretty freak'n good. Story just keeps getting better.

[WonderMalcolm]

I nominate Knobsy for the Forumite of the Month Award.:D He's done more to lighten the mood of my month than anyone.:o

[planetal]

Terry,

This is the most weirdly fascinating and addictive thing I've ever had the pleasure to read on here.

Your writing skills are clearly abundant as well.

Thanks
Al

[PBBPaul]

This certainly is an addictive story, please continue. I like your writing style as well.

[IsildursBane]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


I think I might actually be older than Mixerman, if that's even possible. :o


Have you read any of Aardvark's "Depths of My Stupidity" saga? It makes Mixerman's Diaries look like something you'd get from a freshman composition major. They're in Mixerman's forums, but the first ones might not be up anymore.

-Dan.

[ctardi]

I have copied everything into microsoft word so far, 15 pages of size 10 font. If it's alright with terry, I wouldn't mind editing it, maybe do something, not sure what, with it....Can you let me know if it's alright that I edit it?

[WonderMalcolm]

Originally posted by ctardi
I have copied everything into microsoft word so far, 15 pages of size 10 font. If it's alright with terry, I wouldn't mind editing it, maybe do something, not sure what, with it....Can you let me know if it's alright that I edit it?

15 pages?:eek: Of this one story?:eek: :eek:

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by ctardi
I have copied everything into microsoft word so far, 15 pages of size 10 font. If it's alright with terry, I wouldn't mind editing it, maybe do something, not sure what, with it....Can you let me know if it's alright that I edit it?

Please don't, it's still a work in progress.

You might notice I've been gradually editing the whole thing back to the first chapter.

Terry D.

[godhacks]

Got me wanting more.

[Bajazz]

OK, if you can't beat them.....

I had a gig and when I packed up my stuff a girl that looked just like Angelina Jolie commented "nice ass!" everytime I bent down to pick up something. We shared a beer, and for once sake a girl bothered to stick around 'till I was finished packing up. Then we went home on a after party with my cousin....


...more to come... :D

[Bajazz]

We drank some more and sang and played and smoked and THEN WE FUCKED FOR HOURS, FOR GODS SAKE! YES!

End






Ahhh, what a relief!!!!:cool:

[Forbidden]

Originally posted by godhacks
Got me wanting more.


+1


I read most of it last night and the rest today, great stuff Terry. :)

[hammergjh]

Lesbian stories are so fucking hot.... :eek:

Keep me up...I mean, keep up w/ the story, PS! :D

Nice writing btw.

[ctardi]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


Please don't, it's still a work in progress.

You might notice I've been gradually editing the whole thing back to the first chapter.

Terry D.

I hadn't even noticed...once your done, i do have an idea, so i'll talk to you then. :)

[squealie]

Originally posted by MrKnobs
Part VIII. Dead Man Walking - "Red"



Is this the same 'Red' who drove the crew truck and epoxy'd the spark plug?

[atc3434]

Originally posted by squealie


Is this the same 'Red' who drove the crew truck and epoxy'd the spark plug?
Scary thing is I know exactly what story your talking about.

[fuzzball]

More...

[MrKnobs]

Part IX. Janis & the matter of coolness

Some girls play at being groupies, but Janis was the real deal. She had even changed the spelling of her name to match Janis Joplin, her idol. I guess she didn't understand or didn't want to understand the difference between being on the stage and being backstage, but that's how some groupies think; it's as close as they'll get to being a rock star.

Janis seemed, at least to me, to spend her entire life following bands around and sleeping with musicians. I would see her fairly often at our shows, usually in the company of her running buddy Lucia, but I had also heard through the grapevine that she followed a lot of other bands besides ours. I had never thought too much about Janis, but I remembered what Lucia had said about her at the strange breakfast at Gail's, and I was a little intrigued.

There is a pecking order between groupies, sort of an informal caste system. Janis was *maybe* 18. Like all young women, she had the beauty of youth. But "beautiful" was not a word you would use to describe her. You could already see that she was going to struggle with her weight all her life, she was short, she was a little plain in the face, and she always looked tired and maybe even a little unhappy. Her eye makeup always seemed to be smeared, even right after she put it on. There was a reason she ran with Lucia; Lucia was seriously cute and guys were always buzzing around her like flies. Some of them would have had to settle for Janis.

So Janis was in a sort of lower tier of the groupies she ran with. She wasn't anyone's first choice, but after a few beers she started to look pretty good, and she got her share of one night stands. I had never woke up with her after a drunken evening, and as far as I knew, neither had any of my bandmates.

But even if they had, they wouldn't have talked about it. Touring and groupies is kind of a shitty business in many ways. There are girls you brag about shagging and others that you keep quiet about, deny even, if necessary. Janis was in the latter category.

If any of us had slept with Janis, our bandmates would have been unmerciful. It would have been unforgiveably uncool. It was the sort of accusation that was so serious that it required preemptive and creative lying, instead of simple denial. She was frequently the butt of jokes. Anyone who didn't join in the jokes was suspect.

One time I heard this exchange riding home after a particularly wild evening: "Hey Will - did you sneak in my room last night and blow me while I was passed out ? I woke up with teeth marks and eye makeup on my dick!" To which Will responded amiably, "Yeah man, sorry, I was drunk."

"Oh thank God, I thought it might have been Janis!"

The van exploded with laughter.

I guess Pete would have had to kill himself if that had been the case. I wanted to kill him right there in the van, actually. But I kept my silence. Hell, I even laughed along with the others a little. I had to.

None of this was on my mind when I woke up in a mildly crappy hotel Sunday morning after a rare out of town show in Austin. It was pretty late, I saw that Will had already got up, showered and left. He was my usual roommate on out of town gigs. I had the place to myself, and a couple of hours before checkout to get over my hangover before I had to roll back to Bryan. Life was good.

Then somebody knocked on my door. It was too bright and early, and my head hurt. I pulled a pillow over my face and tried to ignore it. But I knew I was f*cked because Will couldn't have put the chain on as he left, and any moment I'd hear a woman with a Hispanic accent shouting "Room service! Room service!"

But whoever it was just kept knocking and the door didn't open. I can't tell you how many times some poor maid has opened the door at 11 only to see my passed out bare white ass on the bed. This maid must be experienced with musicians, I thought. I got up and answered the door in my underwear.

It was Janis, and she looked like shit. Her hair and makeup were an unbelievable mess, her clothes looked like she'd slept in them, which undoubtedly she had. That seemed strange. She also reeked of sex and alcohol, which wasn't strange at all. She had an almost empty bottle of Jack in her hand, she was practically a f*cking cliche.

She spoke quickly without taking a breath as if she expected the door to slam in her face any second. "Terry I'm sorry to bother you I really am but I don't know who else to talk to everyone's gone and Lucia split with some guy from the other band and I don't have a ride back to Bryan do you know if the crew has left yet and where they are so I can ride with them?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. I thought this was going to be a good day.

"C'mon in Janis, I'll give you a ride. Just please keep your voice down, my head hurts like a motherf*cker."

She came in quickly and looked around like she expected the cops or something. "Where's Will?"

"Beats me. Looks like he slept here, but who knows. Headed home, probably. You want the first shower? Otherwise I'm getting in."

She stayed in there a long time and didn't leave me any hot water, but I really didn't mind because I wasn't looking forward to inhaling all her reekage on the 100 mile trip back home.

We grabbed the last dregs of the motel's breakfast buffet and headed east on 290 out of Austin. My head felt a little better after eating, but I was really hoping for a conversation free drive. Something else happened instead.

We were barely 10 miles out of Austin when she started working on undoing my belt. She had a goofy smile on her face that was both endearing and frightening.

"Hey, what are you doing? C'mon, cut it out, I'm driving!"

Still working on the belt. "I just want to thank you for being so nice to me today. You won't be sorry, I'm good!"

My response was very un-rockstarlike: "I'm sure you are. But really, you don't have to do that." I suppose any of my bandmates would have roughly pushed her away.

Belt is undone, she's working on the buttons now.... "I want to. You're sweet. I won't make a mess. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone, I promise."

There it was. She won't tell anyone. So she knows how it is. Of course she does. Damn, that sucks. I didn't know what to say.

Wait, sure I did. "STOP IT, I'm serious. I'm giving you a ride because I'm a nice guy, OK? Some bitch named Candy did me a HUGE favor by explaining that to me! I'm a f*cking nice guy, get it? I'm too stupid to just shut up and take your damn blow job!"

Wow, it worked just like it did in Brenham, even though it was me that said it this time. Janis immediately ceased all unbuttoning activity and withdrew to the far side of the passenger seat. First I felt smugly self-righteous, which quickly faded into feeling guilty. I had just dumped some serious baggage of my own on her, she didn't deserve that.

I figured she'd just stay sullen for the remainder of the trip, but as usual, I figured wrong.

The first two things she said were "I f*cked Pete last night, please don't tell him I told you," and "That was really shitty of that girl to tell you that, she probably just thought you were too good for her." Just like that. As if the two things were connected.

Maybe they were.

Then it all just poured out of her. She didn't even look at me, she just let it all out. She basically told me her life story of abuse and sex and drinking and trying to feel better about herself by sleeping with lots of guys and how she admired and loved Lucia, how she loved to sing but she wasn't very good, how she knew she wasn't all that pretty but she took fierce pride in being good in bed, and how she only felt loved and cool when she was with a musician, and then only for a little while so she had to do it again and again which made her feel ashamed which made her need to do it more and then she drank to feel less guilty......

All one big run on sentence as if she was used to being interrupted and had to hurry. I listened until she wound down, which didn't really take that long.

Because I'm a sensitive caring guy, I had to say, "You f*cked Pete? Are you serious? Nobody f*cks Pete! Were you his first? He's like, what, sixteen? Damn, you're sick! I can't wait to give him shit about this!" :D

She came across the seat and started hitting me but she was laughing as she did it. Something had changed in our relationship.

I asked her, "What I want to know is why have we never talked before? Am I scary or something? And did you really say you've never had an orgasm, or did I hear that wrong?"

She looked down again. "You're too far out of my reach. You're in the band. You date girls like Gail, not girls like me. I know that, it's OK. And no, I've never got off with a guy."

Suddenly I had a thought, "I can help you with that."

That surprised her, given what I had just turned down. She was instantly back to the old Janis, proud and defiant. "Go for it, if you want. Lots of guys have tried. No offense."

"None taken."

I abruptly cut over the median and headed back toward Austin. I had a plan.

Terry D.

[godhacks]

Go Terry

[justcrash]

Holy crap Knobs, am I ever happy I've subscribed to this thread!

[Deny]

I knew your style was familiar...

Mr. Terry D. AKA Dan Brown! :eek:

So this is where you hang out when you want to chill :cool:

[atc3434]

Terry, you never cease to amaze. I've been getting crazy looks all week from my roomate when at any given time (3am) I'll bust out laughing or drop a loud "WHAT!?" I really do want to see all your stories compiled somewhere, someday.

[MrKnobs]

Part X: Epiphany for two at the Driskill Hotel

One of the coolest things about Austin is the old Driskill Hotel. According to their own press PR, "The Driskill is a world unto itself; a world which transcends time and place." I have no idea what that means, but I'd say it's entirely accurate.

It is nothing short of a palace. Built by a cattle baron in 1886, it's a unique blend of antiquity and opulent luxury. It didn't work out so well for old Colonel Driskill, he went broke. But today, by God, it was going to work for me.

Of course it's expensive as f*ck. But nothing else would do for what I had in mind. Remember: me 'n Jesus, we save people. It's a sorry, thankless job, but it's what we do. And I'm pretty sure Jesus don't worry about what hotel rooms cost so I wasn't about to either.

You see, it only took Janis about ten minutes to tell me the entire story of her life. That's understandable, she was only 18 years old. But what was astonishing is that she managed to communicate her underlying problem clearly and concisely to a complete stranger; yet I understood her perfectly.

I understood that she had extremely low self-esteem. Someone had convinced her as a child that she didn't matter, wasn't special, wasn't pretty, would just have to try to get by in life as best she could by whatever means she could. She would never be "cool."

I understood this in my very bones because I felt the same way about myself. People like Candy had been reinforcing this idea in me for as long as I could remember, and I had failed to reject their condemnation. But now this girl, this groupie, Janis had told me I was "out of her reach."

I meant to return the favor if I could, in spades. That's why I turned the truck around.

At first Janis thought I was mad at her, that I was spitefully going out of my way to return her to Austin instead of home. I told her, just trust me. Then she figured I was taking her somewhere to screw her, and she was OK with that. I didn't correct her on that score because it was a useful way to get her to stop asking questions and keep my plan secret.

First we checked into the Driskill. I got us a room with a whirlpool bath, a wet bar, a big four poster bed, and a good view of downtown. But we didn't take advantage of the room just yet. We went shopping for clothes. For her. I bought her a couple of outfits, one kinda slutty looking (I thought) and the other suitable for dining at the finest establishment, which was part of what I had in mind. She picked them out, I don't know jack about women's clothing; still don't.

The Driskill back then had a little salon thing where ladies could get their hair, nails, and makeup expertly done. That was next. They did a fine job, I've never seen her hair look that good. In fact I'd never seen it other than in a tangled mess.

We went up to the room to change, and she was every bit the vision of beauty I'd imagined she could be. God cuts women a lot of slack at 18; there's always a beautiful woman under there somewhere; you just have to accentuate the positive and draw attention away from any minor flaws. She was positively glowing; from the time she spent looking in the mirror, I guessed she thought so too.

I had a silly skinny tie with me, but I had to borrow a jacket from the concierge downstairs. It was pretty shitty of me to borrow their jacket and then sneak out to a different restaurant, but sometimes you have to improvise. Besides, this was costing me a fortune.

A lot of girls would have freaked at this point, but Janis just went with it and proved to me that she knew how to have fun when fun was to be had. I liked that about her - a lot.

I figured out a while back that men and women are fundamentally different. A man usually gets his self-esteem from his job, from what he can do; and, to a certain extent, from his place in society. A woman's primary source of self-esteem, thanks to our enlightened society, comes to a large degree from how she feels about herself, specifically how she feels about how she looks. And there's no one more critical of a woman's looks than herself. The trick is to get her looking as good as possible, then get her out in public and appreciated, so she believes it herself.

So far, this was working well.

Next stop was Green Pastures, a five star restaurant created from a huge old mansion that some plantation owner built, I think. This was a little selfish on my part because GP has the finest wine selection in Austin, bar none. The food is great, too. But the ambience is tres' romantic and it's a stone-hearted woman who can dine there without being profoundly moved by the experience. It has always been my ace in the hole card.

Man, I know nobody else but me cares about this, but the wine was soooo good that night. I think we had Veuve Cliquot Grand Dame, I'm not sure. Everything was wonderful.

At one point in the meal, she leaned over and said in a hushed voice, "This is the kind of place you take a girl when you're going to propose!"

I told her, "Don't rush things!" and we both laughed. It was really, really good to see her happy. I doubt that every eye in the place was on her, but it sure seemed that way to me, and, I hope, to her.

Eventually we made our way back to the hotel where of course she expected to pay for the evening with sex. And I'll be honest, I considered it. I was a little drunk and a lot happy, and her company was wonderful. But in my mind, that would have ruined everything.

We made some small talk for a while, mostly about the wine, the food, the idiots in my band and our entourage, etc. Then she looked at me with a direct gaze that saw right into my soul, and asked me, "Are you gonna make good on that promise? To get me off?"

Without hesitation, I replied, "I didn't promise that. I said I'd help you fix your problem of getting off with a man present. I've already done most of the work, and with the wine buzz we're almost there. Just one more step. But you have to do exactly what I say, without an argument, OK?"

She got all serious looking and nodded. "Sounds.... scary!" she said. I think she was being sarcastic. She was back in her element, or so she thought.

I filled up the whirlpool tub and resisted the desire to get in myself. Lucky for me, one of my exes used to pleasure herself with swirling water, and she wasn't shy about showing me how it was done. I showed J how it was done, and it worked for her too. She climaxed two or three times, just holding and squeezing my hand with her face against my chest and her eyes closed, as the water swirled over her. I never touched her, though she begged me to join her a couple of times.

Afterwards, she put on one of the hotel's thick white robes and we sat on the bed for a while, not talking. Then she stated the obvious. "You're in love with Gail." I suddenly realized she was right; I had orchestrated her epiphany, now she was providing mine. I said nothing, but she hadn't meant it as a question. "Terry, you can't be in love with a groupie, she'll break your heart."

I was dead tired and in no condition to drive. I settled in to sleep on the huge bed. I'd face the consequences tomorrow.

Terry D.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by squealie


Is this the same 'Red' who drove the crew truck and epoxy'd the spark plug?

No. "Red" is pretty much what every guy in the music biz with red hair gets called.

Unless he's also huge. Then he gets called, "Tiny."

Terry D.

[Andersonology]

Wow....you got me to stay past 5 at my job on a Friday evening...very compelling stuff. You should try and and pitch this as a screenplay to Hollywood.

I can't even imagine what the ending is going to be:confused:

[TheBeatButcher]

What a fantastic story (or stories, I should say)!

Thanks, Terry!

:cool:

:D

:cool:

Joe

[Angry Grimace]

Eh, better as a "On the Road" type of book lol

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by TheBeatButcher
What a fantastic story (or stories, I should say)!

Thanks, Terry!
Joe

All the stories and characters come together in the end, I'm just having a little trouble getting there because the side stories are so interesting, at least to me.

Then again, I lived them.

Thanks for the support.

Terry D.

[David Simpson]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


All the stories and characters come together in the end, I'm just having a little trouble getting there because the side stories are so interesting, at least to me.

Then again, I lived them.

Thanks for the support.

Terry D.


You are doing great.....dont leave anything out!! :)

[facefirst]

Type faster!!!!

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by facefirst
Type faster!!!!

It's not the typing that's the problem. :)

Terry D.

[facefirst]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


It's not the typing that's the problem. :)

Terry D.

Remember faster then!!!!

DAMN YOU!!!

[IbanezShred]

This story is great man...You don't have to write fiction for it to be interesting...I am nobody to judge but you could probably write a good noval.

[facefirst]

Originally posted by IbanezShred
This story is great man...You don't have to write fiction for it to be interesting...I am nobody to judge but you could probably write a good noval.

and even a better novel.

[dissonance]

I swear I've read that Sandy/Candy story before. Have you written about it before because I'm sure I've heard it.

The part about Janis sounded a little familiar too but not enough to say I'm sure I've heard it before like the Sandy/Candy part.

[riffy]

Fabulous story Terry D.!

Your writing skills are way up there with me as well. Your storytelling reminds me very much of my younger days when
I would read Micky Spillane novels.
Thanks for the continuing enjoyable read.

Gary

[fuzzball]

Still waiting for the next part.

[WonderMalcolm]

Originally posted by dissonance
I swear I've read that Sandy/Candy story before. Have you written about it before because I'm sure I've heard it.

The part about Janis sounded a little familiar too but not enough to say I'm sure I've heard it before like the Sandy/Candy part.

The Sandy/Candy bit has been posted before.

[dissonance]

Originally posted by WonderMalcolm


The Sandy/Candy bit has been posted before.

Ok thanks then I'm not crazy. Regardless of whether these stories are true, they sure are well written.

[dead matt]

Your captivated audience awaits..........:D

[Rusty G.]

I'm blown away. This is real good stuff. . .How about a novel where, no, make that a screenplay where some guy on the internet is telling the other guys on the internet something about this story. . .and we're all part of it. But the thing is, the story is real. Is it a horror story or erotic novel? . . .Whatever it is, Terry, you've got some real chops. I don't know if you played the guitar as well as you write, but you're missing out on your calling in life if you're spending more time working on computers instead of working with them in capturing your creative thoughts!

[MitchSchaft]

I was hoping for one more before bed :D. Thanks for sharing, dude.

[Shark]

You got me hooked.:D

Great Job Bro.Keep it cumin

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by dissonance
I swear I've read that Sandy/Candy story before. Have you written about it before because I'm sure I've heard it.

Yes, it's posted over in the Stupid Stories thread on the Live Sound forum. It's part of the puzzle that fits into this, and I had told it as a short story previously.

I wonder if anyone has figured out what the unifying theme of the story is, aside from "groupies," of course.

Feel free to guess the ending. In any case I will write what actually happened as I've stayed true to reality so far.

Terry D.

P.S. Thanks to all for the kind words. I'm not so much trying to impress or entertain as I am to purge myself of these secrets. I literally shook for about 30 minutes after I wrote the last chapter above.

[glogulus]

MrKnobs, great writing, whether your story is true or not I'm hooked.

You know, you really are a good writer. You should write a memoir ebook or something :). I'd buy it.

But since this is free, next episode please :).

[Rockys Mob]

what do you call this story, MrKnobs?

[atc3434]

Terry, I recall a story about a bolt action rifle, and a sucide attempt... part of this story?

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by Rockys Mob
what do you call this story, MrKnobs?

I haven't decided, I have a couple of ideas. The best title I've come up with so far, which is the point of the piece, is too revealing of the ending, which was a surprise in real life and should be here as well.

I'm literally writing this just as it flows from memory, no outline, no plan. I've had to go back and do some slight edits in the earlier chapters for continuity. I actually hadn't planned to write more than the first segment.

It's important to think of this as a first draft, because that's what it is.

Terry D.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by atc3434
Terry, I recall a story about a bolt action rifle, and a sucide attempt... part of this story?

No, that might still be posted over in Live Sound / Stupid Stories. She was actually the next girlfriend I had after Gail in this story.

You might be surprised to know I have nothing against either girl and still have fond memories of them to this day. They were both good women, each in their own way, I just wasn't ready for a good woman at that point in my life.

Terry D.

[fuzzball]

Wow, nuff said.

[sekler]

kickass thread :D

[brikus]

Originally posted by sekler
kickass thread :D

yep, indeed, and to be honest I'm proud I started it. This enabled us to discover and appreciate Terry's great writing chops ! :cool:

And if ever this was all bogus....this would be the greatest, by far, pwning ever seen on HC !!!! :D :D :D

Keep it up Terry. We're all waiting for the rest. :) :cool:

[micwalt]

Wow!
This is great stuff.
You really are a pretty dang good writer. It's not in the making stuff up; it's in the way you put down the experiences. Really enjoying it, man. Give us more.
BTW, I'm a copy editor by trade. If you do want someone to do some line-level editing to it when you're ready, let me know.

[PhilBelanger]

Amazing story Terry, keep it coming ! :)

[cavemanic]

Originally posted by MrKnobs
[B]

One night we were doing a show in Brenham TX, which is an unremarkable town except for two facts: (1) it has a large junior college which provides a ready audience for any rock band passing through, and (2) it's home to some of the friendliest, horniest girls in Texas. Needless to say, our band always looked forward to playing there.



:( damn....I wish i could play places like that

[OneArmedScissors]

MrKnobs, you've caught my attention!

[orboblivion]

wow great story knobs, cant wait for more

i rate this thread 2 thumbs way up :)

[Cokeman]

I feel like I'm listening to the Legend of Dirty Joe on the Zander Kelly show.

http://www.theworldjournal.com/special/movies/2001/joedirt.jpg

[MrKnobs]

Part XI. Consequences - 06/27/83

Some dates stick in your memory whether you want them to or not. Some of those are happy days: your birthday, your wedding day, maybe the day you graduated from high school or college, the day a child was born or married, the day you retire after a long and distinguished career. Other dates you'd like to forget but can't: the day a friend or relative died, a bad car wreck, or the day your divorce became final. About all you can hope for is that one of the really bad days doesn't fall on one of the good days and ruin your memory of it forever.

For me, June 27th, 1983 was in the latter category. It was the beginning of the end of my old life, and I never saw it coming.

I have no trouble remembering the exact date thanks to a yellowed clipping from the Bryan-College Station Eagle pinned to the wall above my desk. I've been looking at that clipping for more than 22 years. When I first put it up, I made a bargain with myself that I'd take it down only when certain conditions had been met. It's there to this day, I'm still waiting to take it down.

I guess you could say it's become one of my rituals.

I was feeling pretty good about myself on that particular Monday morning as I rolled into town a little before noon and dropped Janis off at the little westgate area apartment she shared with Lucia. I got what I'd hoped for the previous day; there was no conversation at all between us during the hour and a half trip back to Bryan. What we had experienced had been overwhelmingly emotional for us both, and neither of us was ready to talk about it yet. Janis looked a million miles away, though at one point she did scoot over and snuggle up against me for a while. I patted her on the head, and played with her hair a little. It was awkward for us both.

I didn't suppose the day we had spent together would suddenly reverse all her behavior and repair her self esteem - or mine either, for that matter. But at least I knew with perfect clarity that this was one of those rare moments in my life when I had transcended myself and selflessly done the right thing. I hoped that I had shown her what was possible, and put a tiny, lasting crack in her wall of self-doubt. I hoped she'd remember that at least one person on one day thought she was beautiful and special.

I was still trying to save people, but unlike Jesus who had always known when and where He was going to be crucified, I was clueless.

I felt a little uneasy as I pulled up at Gail's place, but I thought everything would be OK. I also thought, since it was Monday, that she would be at work and I could rustle up some grub and think about what I was going to say to her.

I was wrong on all counts.

Her car was in the driveway, and she met me at the door before I could knock. There was no expression on her face, and for a moment I thought she wasn't going to let me in. But that would have been letting me off too easy.

It started out innocuously enough. I spoke first. "How come you aren't at work today. Are you sick?"

She ignored my question. "I thought you were coming back to town yesterday. Wasn't your gig Saturday night, or am I remembering wrong?"

Uh-oh. "No, you're right. I started to drive back yesterday but I was really beat and hungover, so I decided to stay another day. Also, I had a couple of things to attend to in Austin."

The truth, but not the whole truth. Help me, God.

"Don't they have phones in Austin?"

Crap, I've read this script before and I didn't want to play it out.

"I guess, I wouldn't know, not sure I've ever actually seen one there. We stay at the cheapest hotels possible,we're thankful when there's running water. Look, I didn't know we were at the point where we need to check in with each other. It's not like I live here or see you every night. I'm sorry, I... I didn't expect this."

Her face went blank, no longer a trace of anger showing. Like a condemned man in front of a firing squad, for a moment I thought I might be miraculously spared.

Instead, she said, very quietly, almost lower than I could hear, "Did you f*ck her?"

I didn't expect that. Trying to buy some time to think, I stammered out, "Who?"

"JANIS, god damn it! DID YOU FUCK HER?" Now she was yelling and her hands were balled into fists, her right hand raised but wavering as if receiving contradictory instructions from her brain; her eyes looked crazy. I had never seen her like this.

Every deed done in the darkest night will eventually see the light of day, but I'd hoped eventually would be a little longer than this. Shit, I was a dead man. I needed time to think but I wasn't going to get it. I didn't know how much she knew, and I didn't want to get caught out lying. Just moments ago, I was so sure I was the good guy and now it turns out I'm the bad guy. I felt at any moment the floor would open up and swallow me down. I hoped it would.

The floor failing me, I swallowed hard myself and decided to try the truth, though I couldn't remember that approach ever working for me before; it was all I could think to do. "No, Gail, I didn't touch her. And I didn't let her do anything for me, either. She needed a ride, she was hurting, and I tried to help. The details are....strange."

God, I hoped she wouldn't ask me for the details.

She didn't. She asked, "Why on earth would you spend the night with Janis and not f*ck her? How is that possible? Do you expect me to believe that? Were you too drunk?"

Sometimes I'm way too intellectual. I shrugged, defenseless now. "That would have sent the wrong message to her, it would have made everything else I told her a lie, she would have believed I was just like all the others who said whatever they needed to say to get laid. I didn't want to be like all the others, I had to be better than that."

"Wrong answer, try again," was her quiet reply.

What did she want from me? A confession? I wasn't going to confess to something I hadn't done. Then it hit me. I remembered what Janis had said to me the night before.

"I didn't f*ck her because I'm in love with you, God help me."

There it was, extracted from me by cruel interrogation. A tiny hint of a smile cracked on one side of her face. She asked, "Did you mean to say, 'so help me God?'"

"No, I definitely meant 'God help me.'"

She actually laughed at that and the tension was gone as suddenly as it had arrived. "You got THAT right!" and then, startlingly, "I already knew all that, I just wanted to hear it from you. Took you long enough to get around to it."

My pulse was threading and I thought I might faint from the sudden change of events. "But how.... who told you...."

"Janis told me. She said you were ok but drunk and crashed out, that she was spending the night with you but nothing happened, that you were a perfect gentleman, and that you were stupid in love with me in case I didn't know. Turns out there are phones in Austin after all, how about that? At least she was considerate enough to call in case I was worried."

I sat down on the couch, my head reeling.

Gail said, "Don't get too comfortable, but do stay sitting down. Your work called, they wanted you to come in right away. And that was at 8 this morning."

Shit, probably some stupid meeting I'd forgotten or some computer program that had stopped working. "Weird, I never game them your number. Whatever it is can probably wait," I suggested.

She said, "I doubt it. Have you seen this morning's paper? Check it out, you're famous! By the way, the Eagle people called yesterday to ask permission to run this today instead of Sunday. You were shacked up with Janis, so I suggested they call your partner Kevin and ask him."

That didn't make any sense, the weekday Eagle was like 8 pages at most, two sections.

I unfolded the paper and my jaw dropped to my knees. The headline said, "Producers Band Together" and there was Kevin's and my picture right on the FRONT F*CKING PAGE posed in the control room of our studio. What the f*ck? This was supposed to be buried in the Sunday business section. Could this possibly have anything to do with work calling me? I was starting to get a real bad feeling.

When I got to work, no one would talk to me. That was ominous, people act like that when you're going to be fired. Sure enough, the moment my boss spotted me he whisked me up to the tenth floor where the big bosses lived. The secretaries made a few quick phone calls and in minutes I was sitting in the executive conference room staring at a roomful of suits. I noticed a couple of copies of the Eagle on the table. They probably read the paper up here everyday, I hoped.

Long story short, they fired me on the spot. Universities require prior permission for outside employment, I had not submitted the form. Apparently the nature of my outside employment was judged an embarassment to the university. Reading the article, they had additionally decided that it would not have been possible for me to run a business and also put in an honest 40 hours per week for them. I noticed they had the picture of Gail topless on the bike, her phone number written on the back. I was terminated immediately.

I considered what they were paying me compared to what I was earning at my two businesses, and I literally laughed in their faces.

Two campus police officers watched as I cleaned out my desk, then escorted me to my car and confiscated my "A" parking permit before I left.

I went back to Gail's and she had an idea on how to make me feel better. When we were done, she said, "You should have called."

"I know, to tell you I was OK."

"No, you should have called because I know a lot more about getting a woman off than you do. You could have used some advice."

Damn, was nothing private to these girls?

Terry D.

[Tyler1]

hmm... I'm a bit confused. How did your employers get the photo of Gail topless? Did you leave it in your desk or something? :confused:

[Shark]

Damn Terry youre good:D Type faster bro

[fuzzball]

Ready for more...

[brikus]

Originally posted by fuzzball
Ready for more...

so am I ! :cool:

[JBJ]

shit i was just getting round to thinking that gail had done something incredibly stupid thinking you were fucking around with janis in austin n then another twist :eek:

k here's what ive got goin on here.

janis i think is kinda secondary from now on. i think her main point was to point out that gail will break your heart, as she bkluntly put it in austin

Red will be back int he story and probably got alot to do with up coming events

i think it's going to turn into some psycho stalker type story. her work has her phone number, shes always mnaking little comments about stuff u didnt know she knew about you, the whole confrontation thing is just out and out wierd n the 1st place when she knows the truth.

man i sound like all the kitchen wenhes at work talkign about eastenders.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by Tyler1
hmm... I'm a bit confused. How did your employers get the photo of Gail topless? Did you leave it in your desk or something? :confused:

Sometimes I leave a clue on purpose, some little incongruous thing that will surface again and hopefully later make the reader think, "Damn! I should have seen that coming!"

That wasn't my original intention with the photograph. Sometimes mysteries are a little more prosaic. I had to delete several hundred words from the chapter above because of the 10,000 character post limit. I didn't want to split the chapter into two parts as I did with the Janis side story, I wanted to get all the salient events of June 27th 1983 into one chapter. The explanation for the migration of the photograph was really very simple, but it's one of the things that got cut as non-essential to the story.

But now you've got me thinking about how the photo got in my desk drawer for them to find. The straightforward answer might not be the insightful one. We'll see shortly. ;)

Terry D.

[Robert Kortus]

MrKnobs, my hat's off to you. You trully have the gift of writing. May I ask, do you have any formal education or background in writing? As someone who took college courses on writing and have done a fare bit of it myself, I can tell you this is some of the best stuff I've read. Keep it up.

[Joe Merlino]

Terry, I'm a professional writer by trade (non fiction computer books), and I've got to tell you, you've got a gift. You may not be a great fiction writer if you can't make stuff up, but you're at the very least a great memiorist.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by Robert Kortus
MrKnobs, my hat's off to you. You trully have the gift of writing. May I ask, do you have any formal education or background in writing? As someone who took college courses on writing and have done a fare bit of it myself, I can tell you this is some of the best stuff I've read. Keep it up.

Thanks.

No, I'm a scientist, not a writer.

Terry D.

[Tedster]

A very Tedster groupie story...

Once I was playing at a bar. The band went on break...and these two lovely ladies sidled up to me and got really cozy. I bought them a drink, and they got really close, and both whispered to me simultaneously..."Would you introduce us to the drummer and bass player?"

Story of my life.

[MrKnobs]

My head is in "editor" mode today, so I spent some time repairing the first two chapters to fit with the rest.

THIS IS WHY I ASK YOU PLEASE DON'T QUOTE ANY OF THE CHAPTERS IN THEIR ENTIRETY. THIS IS A DRAFT AND CONTINUOUS MODIFICATION IS TAKING PLACE TO MAKE THE STORY MORE COHESIVE AND CORRECT ERRORS.

If you quote wholesale parts, you're in effect creating multiple versions of the document that I can't repair.

If you've already quoted a large block, it won't break my heart if you edit out that portion of your post. Optional, of course.


I'll try to work on Chapter 12 tonight after I've had a couple glasses of wine.

I really want to finish this, because I owe my workplace about 20,000 words of technobabble this week and that puts me in a bad place for writing normal stuff.

Thanks for your patience, and please keep commenting. Several have been extremely useful, and all have been encouraging.

:)

Terry D.

[LiveMusic]

Originally posted by Tedster

Story of my life.


HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. That's hilarious. If it's true. Poor Tedster. A Rodney Daingerfield moment.

[LiveMusic]

Well, Terry, if you need encouragement, it's about a fine a piece of work as I have ever read. No kidding. You really should get this published.

[AJ6stringsting]

Wow all that's needed here is some of our girlfirends and wives to see these things.........bad idea:rolleyes: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by AJ6stringsting
Wow all that's needed here is some of our girlfirends and wives to see these things.........bad idea:rolleyes: :eek: :eek: :eek: :eek:

If they do, just tell 'em it's complete fiction.

That's my plan. :o

Terry D.

[fuzzball]

Great thread!

[ratthedd]

Originally posted by dissonance
I swear I've read that Sandy/Candy story before. Have you written about it before because I'm sure I've heard it.

The part about Janis sounded a little familiar too but not enough to say I'm sure I've heard it before like the Sandy/Candy part.

Sandy and Candy have shown up in the Stupid Stories in the LS&P forum.

[ratthedd]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


I haven't decided, I have a couple of ideas. The best title I've come up with so far, which is the point of the piece, is too revealing of the ending, which was a surprise in real life and should be here as well.

I'm literally writing this just as it flows from memory, no outline, no plan. I've had to go back and do some slight edits in the earlier chapters for continuity. I actually hadn't planned to write more than the first segment.

It's important to think of this as a first draft, because that's what it is.

Terry D.

Witches call their animal companions "familiars". I think that term applies so far--perhaps you call your novel "The Familiars".

[brikus]

Originally posted by MrKnobs


Thanks! :)

No, I have little formal training as a writer, I'm a research scientist by profession. I've written hundreds of large technical reports, proposals, memoranda, etc., and been published many times in refereed journals of the National Academy of Science. The volume of my work, should you Google my real name, would probably stand up to Stephen King's output; however the net result is somewhat different, to say the least.

All of that pretty much stifles any creative writing penchant or ability I might once have had, as communicating in the stiff, passive voice style of academic research is quite different from the stuff of popular fiction.

"It was therefore determined, at the alpha = 0.05 level, that any cofactors or surrogate variables that could have confounded the model had been systematically precluded by the two stage stratified sampling technique incorporated in the modified experimental design (Someguy et al, 1985)."

Yuck.

Terry D.

what particular field are you working in ?

I studied bioinformatics and mathematical modeling. I have done some research work in genetics and transcriptome analysis during my studies (internships in a research lab in France and in a biotech company in SD, CA), and I got one article published in Genetical Research just before I graduated...and after that I hit the hard realities of finding a job... :(

[fuzzball]

Is it just me or is it nearly impossible to find the dream job that we go to college to get?

[brikus]

Originally posted by fuzzball
Is it just me or is it nearly impossible to find the dream job that we go to college to get?

I would go for the 'nearly imposible' option. Unless you manage things right before you graduate. Aka, if you have an internship at the end of your curriculum, look for a company you're interested in and that is recruiting or about to and apply for an internship there. Make a good impression, and you'll end up in a good position. I maybe should have applied that when I was a student, but at that time I was more focused on adding an international experience to my curriculum...a mistake retrospectively, I think... And now I'm not working anywhere close to my field...but, but....WTF DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH GROUPIES ???? :mad:

[Jamieh]

There doesn't seem to be much groupie story telling on here now....

Does, my girlfriend and the my singers girlfriend, who happened to be my girlfriends sister one night count as a groupie story?

Or how about, more recently, my new girlfriend and my an ex's sister?? (different one to the one above!)



:D :D

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by brikus


what particular field are you working in ?

I'm a materials scientist. Right now I'm working in the area of transportation. The two projects I'm heading up include one on detecting the formation of black ice in porous asphalt and measuring pavement/tire interaction noise from a moving vehicle in urban areas.

Terry D.

[THB]

You know Terry, you're slowly moving in on the title for longest thread ever. How much more of this story you got?

:cool:

[Edward]

He'll need a lot - Krashpad's Gals and Guitars thread over on GJ is up to page 109 now ;)

[twangboy]

cmon terry!

some of us are dying to read the rest!

[fuzzball]

Originally posted by brikus


I would go for the 'nearly imposible' option. Unless you manage things right before you graduate. Aka, if you have an internship at the end of your curriculum, look for a company you're interested in and that is recruiting or about to and apply for an internship there. Make a good impression, and you'll end up in a good position. I maybe should have applied that when I was a student, but at that time I was more focused on adding an international experience to my curriculum...a mistake retrospectively, I think... And now I'm not working anywhere close to my field...but, but....WTF DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH GROUPIES ???? :mad:

---------------------------------------------------
I have been out of school for a while then I went back after a few years break. I am no longer in the intern timeline. I am working on a masters degree so I can teach college full time (otherwise they usualy only give you part time work.
I guess I got off subject sorry.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by THB
You know Terry, you're slowly moving in on the title for longest thread ever. How much more of this story you got?

:cool:

I could easily write ten more chapters, but I won't.

I'm going to wrap this up in two or three, mostly because it's already long enough and other obligations are biting me on the ass. As I mentioned, I owe a large (20,000+ words) document to my workplace, and writing that sort of technical crap renders me unable to write this sort of stuff for months. :mad:

There is a big surprise coming at the end of this story. You will not only know what happened, by why I chose now to write this publicly.

Terry D.

[MrKnobs]

Originally posted by Edward
He'll need a lot - Krashpad's Gals and Guitars thread over on GJ is up to page 109 now ;)

And don't forget THIS THREAD, (http://acapella.harmony-central.com/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=17271) in which I've posted maybe a hundred stories.

Terry D.