Member
Cyberlad
Enarr
Cyrania
Captain Uni
Oso
Chocolate
Hey Im Jordan
Natty
LOCATION. New York City - Marquee Skydeck
00X. The Rockstar
INTERACTIONS . N/A
Cold water hit the man's face before he swiped his thumb across his nostrils again, inhaled deeply, and waited a moment. James Andrew Gordon, or Jag, as he preferred, stared back at his own reflection. It wasn’t as though it was a foreign appearance. No, there was more grey than he remembered, and his face had filled out more, jowls starting to droop behind a thicker layer of stubble. His eyes looked the same, though, even retaining that familiar haze and telling redness.
But, despite his getting older, the women he kept company with stayed the same age. He could hear her giggling behind him, the strawberry blonde in thick eyeliner. She was wearing a leather skirt that she must have been poured into. Her top, too, leaving nothing to the imagination. Jag had practically spotted her pierced nipples from across the room.
What a pleasant surprise to find out they read ‘suck me’ only moments later. Such luck to enter a party and immediately find a snow bunny who was a fan and bearing party favours.
The Caliburn tramp stamp sealed the deal.
With the fresh snowfall, Jag could feel the pain and anxiety leaving his body, replaced by a cloud-like warmth and an invigorating rush of fresh energy. Downing the glass of amber-hued liquid on the nearby counter beside him, he felt a pair of hands crawl up his abdomen, reaching under his shirt and into his pants, before he spun around and kicked the garbage can towards the door. The clatter of his buckle hitting the floor was quickly diminished as Jag leaned back against the sink, accidentally turning the faucet on while the woman on her knees before him showed the rockstar just how much she adored him.
He had missed this life.
The rush, the thrills, the highs.
Most of all, he had missed being worshipped. The stage was a church, and upon it he was exalted. His music was his gospel, and his body was sacrificed to the ancient power of the music. The concert was his congregation, and those who came to his altar deserved to partake of his body.
He sniffled again, massaging his nostrils against the all too welcome burn. A grunt escaped his lips as the woman between his legs caught him off guard, her hands exploring more than he had bargained for.
Gonna need a drink for that.
He reached around and found the woman's own drink, finishing off the sickeningly sweet beverage before she, too, finished him off. A smile crossed his face behind large framed sunglasses that reflected the LEDs of the swanky bathroom adorning the Marquee.
In this light, she almost looked like his ex-wife; if his ex-wife had an ass with its own zip code. She smacked her lips together, looking up at him longingly before her hands continued to caress and massage his altar.
Worship was far from over.
"Poppy," The name slipped from his lips in a moan while the woman added her hands to the act.
"It's Piper!" She corrected Jag with an indignant screech. “Pip-er! Fuckin’ Piper already!”
"As you wish," Jag replied, easily picking the woman up and spinning her around. Her skirt was already hiked above her waist before Jag had her pinned against the nearby stall wall. Bolts creaked and protested under the rhythmic crashing of bodies. The music from the party beyond the bathroom walls simultaneously drowned their licentious symphony.
Jag was sure her spirit left her body after the third time she came. All feeling had left his lower extremities, numbness in both mind and body washing over him. It made him insatiable as he went again and again until she could take no more and crawled away, panting between animalistic sounds that could only be her soul being dragged back to its mortal coil.
“Done already?”
“You’re not?” Piper managed, “What the actual hell else are you on? Were you trying to split me in half?”
“You didn’t seem to mind,” Jag shrugged, patting his jacket down while looking for a cigarette. He lit one and handed it to the woman before taking a smug drag on a second.
“Holy fuck.” She leaned on the sink to stand, “I’m not going to be able to walk straight for a month.”
“We could double that,” Jag responded, “I saw that cute little asshole wink at me, just beggin’ to be filled. After all, you did put your finger-”
“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me, Jag. I’m done, I’m just-” Piper took a deep breath, “Look, I shouldn’t have done this. But I couldn’t pass up the thrill. This was great, in the most fucked up way, but we shouldn’t have done this.” She winced while taking her first step towards the door.
“I didn’t know you’d be so rough.”
“What’d you fucking expect?” Jag countered, “You didn’t come in here to make love, you came here to fuck.”
“Mmm,” The woman replied, “Yeah, you’re definitely fucked.” She answered, distracted by her own appearance in the mirror. Jag knew all too well the look of disgust. Though generally, it took the women he was with longer to get to that point.
“You’re lucky I don’t go to the press. Clean, loyal, turned over a new leaf, my ass.”
“That ring on your finger pretty much assures me you won’t,” Jag replied, taking another drag off of his cigarette. “He’s a lucky guy, ain’t hard to see why he’d want to lock down an ass like that.”
“Oh, go to hell,” the copper-haired woman replied. “Fuck me, what did I do?”
“You lived your dream, sweetheart. We should all be so lucky.”
“I swear, if you gave me a-”
“I don’t have those.” Jag snapped only to be interrupted by his cellphone. Flicking it open, he put it to his ear.
“Go for Jag,”
“I know what you did!” The singsong voice on the other side of the line replied. “I know what you did! I know what you did!”
“Stop fuckin’ callin’ me!” Jag replied, mashing his thumb against the screen to angrily hang up.
Slamming a folding phone shut used to be a lot more satisfying.
“Look, Poppy-” He started, spinning back around to address the woman again, but Piper was gone. Her ripped panties on the bathroom floor were the only evidence she had been there.
“Fuck! How am I gonna get another hit?” Jag cursed, tapping his thumb to his nose again before straightening his jacket and rejoining the party. His neck craned left and right as he looked for any sign of Piper, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
It was, after all, New Year's Eve in New York City. The Skydeck was packed shoulder to shoulder as Jag pushed his way through the crowd. Sweat beaded on his brow as the lights and sound became almost disorientating.
He needed some air.
Heading towards the balcony, Jag suddenly felt a pair of small hands over his eyes. A singsong giggle behind him was followed by the feeling of a very familiar pair of tits pressed up against the small of his back.
“Guess who?”
“Oh, this is hard,” Jag replied, playing along. “Give me a hint?”
“Hmm, well, it’s someone blonde, short, sweet and who totally rocked your world last night.” The ‘mystery’ woman replied.
“Did I have a date with Sabrina Carpenter last night?”
“Hey!”
Jag took hold of the woman's hands and spun her around in front of him, planting a kiss on her lips before wrapping his arms around her.
“I’m just teasin’, sweet cheeks. Of course, I knew it was you.” He replied while embracing his girlfriend, Tamara Flowers.
“You smell like smoke and booze.”
“It is a party,” Jag replied innocently.
“But you’re behaving?” Tamara asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s not a fair question, you know I aim to misbehave,” Jag replied as Tamara stood up on her tiptoes.
“Then I guess I’ll have to give you a spanking later.” Her hot breath against Jag’s ear sent a shiver down his spine before her teeth playfully nibbled his earlobe.
“Guess I should find some more trouble to get into,” Jag replied, whispering into Tamara’s own ear.
“You do that,” Tamara replied with a wink.
“Tamara Flowers and the legend himself, Jag,” A woman’s voice interrupted the lovers’ flirting.
“Do you have time for some words on the record?”
“Who the hell are you with?” Jag answered, stepping in front of Tamara and putting himself between her and the woman.
“Josie Tatl, Tatl-Tales.”
“Tattletales?” Jag replied with a smirk.
“No, it’s Tatl-Tales. You may have heard of me. I'm an independent reporter.”
“That’s what he said,” Tamara argued.
“Uh, sweet cheeks?” Jag asked Tamara, “What’s a ‘vlog’?”
“It’s like a video blog, boo-boo.”
“Blog?”
“It’s- it doesn’t really matter. How about it - are you open to some questions?” Josie interjected, trying to steer the conversation back on course.
“Eh, with a face like that, darlin’, I’m sure you can say whatever you’d like,” Jag replied as Tamara smiled.
“I’ve always heard you were an incorrigible flirt, Mr. Jag. Speaking of which, is this whole relationship you have with Miss Flowers a ploy? You’ve never been a one-woman kind of man, and many people are speculating this is some sort of fabricated public relations to mend you imagine as a drunkard, an addict and a lecherous adulterer. Do you have anything to say about that?”
“James and I are in love,” Tamara protested, “He’s never done anything to hurt me.”
“Nothing?” Josie replied, “Just earlier, I witnessed Mr. Jag and another woman enter the restroom together.”
“She was a fan,” Jag replied, waving his hand apathetically at the question. “I’m known for givin’ private audiences with my fans, and there weren’t a lot of other options available here.”
“Do they often leave these ‘audiences’ missing their panties?”
“Boo-boo!” Tamara exclaimed.
“In the old days, yes.” Jag replied smugly, “But ever since Tamara, I’ve turned my life around. You wouldn’t know it lookin’ at her, but this little firecracker is more than enough woman for me. I can’t even begin to tell you all the depraved things we get up to.”
“Shush, you,” Tamara flushed red, “You’re embarrassin’ me.”
“That still doesn’t explain earlier tonight.” Josie prodded further.
“She wanted me to have, what can I say, women have been throwin’ their panties and bras at rockstars for as long as there’s been rock ‘n roll. It’s the burden of being the subject of their worship.”
“Hell, I’ve had a few thrown at me, Miss Tattle,” Tamara interjected.
“Oh, honey,” Josie replied, looking sympathetically at Tamara before turning her attention back to Jag.
“I also found this baggy in the restr-” She began, holding up a small plastic baggy clearly holding the residue of some sort of white powder.
“I wouldn’t be pickin’ things like that up from a bathroom, Josie,” Jag replied dismissively, “But I think that’s enough questions for now. If you don’t mind, this is a party and my sweet cheeks needs a drink.” Jag added, giving a playful smack to Tamara’s ass that elicited an excited squeal from between her lips.
“I’ll find you later then,” Josie called.
“Yeah,” Jag muttered.
“You do that.”
But, despite his getting older, the women he kept company with stayed the same age. He could hear her giggling behind him, the strawberry blonde in thick eyeliner. She was wearing a leather skirt that she must have been poured into. Her top, too, leaving nothing to the imagination. Jag had practically spotted her pierced nipples from across the room.
What a pleasant surprise to find out they read ‘suck me’ only moments later. Such luck to enter a party and immediately find a snow bunny who was a fan and bearing party favours.
The Caliburn tramp stamp sealed the deal.
With the fresh snowfall, Jag could feel the pain and anxiety leaving his body, replaced by a cloud-like warmth and an invigorating rush of fresh energy. Downing the glass of amber-hued liquid on the nearby counter beside him, he felt a pair of hands crawl up his abdomen, reaching under his shirt and into his pants, before he spun around and kicked the garbage can towards the door. The clatter of his buckle hitting the floor was quickly diminished as Jag leaned back against the sink, accidentally turning the faucet on while the woman on her knees before him showed the rockstar just how much she adored him.
He had missed this life.
The rush, the thrills, the highs.
Most of all, he had missed being worshipped. The stage was a church, and upon it he was exalted. His music was his gospel, and his body was sacrificed to the ancient power of the music. The concert was his congregation, and those who came to his altar deserved to partake of his body.
He sniffled again, massaging his nostrils against the all too welcome burn. A grunt escaped his lips as the woman between his legs caught him off guard, her hands exploring more than he had bargained for.
Gonna need a drink for that.
He reached around and found the woman's own drink, finishing off the sickeningly sweet beverage before she, too, finished him off. A smile crossed his face behind large framed sunglasses that reflected the LEDs of the swanky bathroom adorning the Marquee.
In this light, she almost looked like his ex-wife; if his ex-wife had an ass with its own zip code. She smacked her lips together, looking up at him longingly before her hands continued to caress and massage his altar.
Worship was far from over.
"Poppy," The name slipped from his lips in a moan while the woman added her hands to the act.
"It's Piper!" She corrected Jag with an indignant screech. “Pip-er! Fuckin’ Piper already!”
"As you wish," Jag replied, easily picking the woman up and spinning her around. Her skirt was already hiked above her waist before Jag had her pinned against the nearby stall wall. Bolts creaked and protested under the rhythmic crashing of bodies. The music from the party beyond the bathroom walls simultaneously drowned their licentious symphony.
Jag was sure her spirit left her body after the third time she came. All feeling had left his lower extremities, numbness in both mind and body washing over him. It made him insatiable as he went again and again until she could take no more and crawled away, panting between animalistic sounds that could only be her soul being dragged back to its mortal coil.
“Done already?”
“You’re not?” Piper managed, “What the actual hell else are you on? Were you trying to split me in half?”
“You didn’t seem to mind,” Jag shrugged, patting his jacket down while looking for a cigarette. He lit one and handed it to the woman before taking a smug drag on a second.
“Holy fuck.” She leaned on the sink to stand, “I’m not going to be able to walk straight for a month.”
“We could double that,” Jag responded, “I saw that cute little asshole wink at me, just beggin’ to be filled. After all, you did put your finger-”
“Don’t you fuckin’ touch me, Jag. I’m done, I’m just-” Piper took a deep breath, “Look, I shouldn’t have done this. But I couldn’t pass up the thrill. This was great, in the most fucked up way, but we shouldn’t have done this.” She winced while taking her first step towards the door.
“I didn’t know you’d be so rough.”
“What’d you fucking expect?” Jag countered, “You didn’t come in here to make love, you came here to fuck.”
“Mmm,” The woman replied, “Yeah, you’re definitely fucked.” She answered, distracted by her own appearance in the mirror. Jag knew all too well the look of disgust. Though generally, it took the women he was with longer to get to that point.
“You’re lucky I don’t go to the press. Clean, loyal, turned over a new leaf, my ass.”
“That ring on your finger pretty much assures me you won’t,” Jag replied, taking another drag off of his cigarette. “He’s a lucky guy, ain’t hard to see why he’d want to lock down an ass like that.”
“Oh, go to hell,” the copper-haired woman replied. “Fuck me, what did I do?”
“You lived your dream, sweetheart. We should all be so lucky.”
“I swear, if you gave me a-”
“I don’t have those.” Jag snapped only to be interrupted by his cellphone. Flicking it open, he put it to his ear.
“Go for Jag,”
“I know what you did!” The singsong voice on the other side of the line replied. “I know what you did! I know what you did!”
“Stop fuckin’ callin’ me!” Jag replied, mashing his thumb against the screen to angrily hang up.
Slamming a folding phone shut used to be a lot more satisfying.
“Look, Poppy-” He started, spinning back around to address the woman again, but Piper was gone. Her ripped panties on the bathroom floor were the only evidence she had been there.
“Fuck! How am I gonna get another hit?” Jag cursed, tapping his thumb to his nose again before straightening his jacket and rejoining the party. His neck craned left and right as he looked for any sign of Piper, but the girl was nowhere to be seen.
It was, after all, New Year's Eve in New York City. The Skydeck was packed shoulder to shoulder as Jag pushed his way through the crowd. Sweat beaded on his brow as the lights and sound became almost disorientating.
He needed some air.
Heading towards the balcony, Jag suddenly felt a pair of small hands over his eyes. A singsong giggle behind him was followed by the feeling of a very familiar pair of tits pressed up against the small of his back.
“Guess who?”
“Oh, this is hard,” Jag replied, playing along. “Give me a hint?”
“Hmm, well, it’s someone blonde, short, sweet and who totally rocked your world last night.” The ‘mystery’ woman replied.
“Did I have a date with Sabrina Carpenter last night?”
“Hey!”
Jag took hold of the woman's hands and spun her around in front of him, planting a kiss on her lips before wrapping his arms around her.
“I’m just teasin’, sweet cheeks. Of course, I knew it was you.” He replied while embracing his girlfriend, Tamara Flowers.
“You smell like smoke and booze.”
“It is a party,” Jag replied innocently.
“But you’re behaving?” Tamara asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s not a fair question, you know I aim to misbehave,” Jag replied as Tamara stood up on her tiptoes.
“Then I guess I’ll have to give you a spanking later.” Her hot breath against Jag’s ear sent a shiver down his spine before her teeth playfully nibbled his earlobe.
“Guess I should find some more trouble to get into,” Jag replied, whispering into Tamara’s own ear.
“You do that,” Tamara replied with a wink.
“Tamara Flowers and the legend himself, Jag,” A woman’s voice interrupted the lovers’ flirting.
“Do you have time for some words on the record?”
“Who the hell are you with?” Jag answered, stepping in front of Tamara and putting himself between her and the woman.
“Josie Tatl, Tatl-Tales.”
“Tattletales?” Jag replied with a smirk.
“No, it’s Tatl-Tales. You may have heard of me. I'm an independent reporter.”
“That’s what he said,” Tamara argued.
“Uh, sweet cheeks?” Jag asked Tamara, “What’s a ‘vlog’?”
“It’s like a video blog, boo-boo.”
“Blog?”
“It’s- it doesn’t really matter. How about it - are you open to some questions?” Josie interjected, trying to steer the conversation back on course.
“Eh, with a face like that, darlin’, I’m sure you can say whatever you’d like,” Jag replied as Tamara smiled.
“I’ve always heard you were an incorrigible flirt, Mr. Jag. Speaking of which, is this whole relationship you have with Miss Flowers a ploy? You’ve never been a one-woman kind of man, and many people are speculating this is some sort of fabricated public relations to mend you imagine as a drunkard, an addict and a lecherous adulterer. Do you have anything to say about that?”
“James and I are in love,” Tamara protested, “He’s never done anything to hurt me.”
“Nothing?” Josie replied, “Just earlier, I witnessed Mr. Jag and another woman enter the restroom together.”
“She was a fan,” Jag replied, waving his hand apathetically at the question. “I’m known for givin’ private audiences with my fans, and there weren’t a lot of other options available here.”
“Do they often leave these ‘audiences’ missing their panties?”
“Boo-boo!” Tamara exclaimed.
“In the old days, yes.” Jag replied smugly, “But ever since Tamara, I’ve turned my life around. You wouldn’t know it lookin’ at her, but this little firecracker is more than enough woman for me. I can’t even begin to tell you all the depraved things we get up to.”
“Shush, you,” Tamara flushed red, “You’re embarrassin’ me.”
“That still doesn’t explain earlier tonight.” Josie prodded further.
“She wanted me to have, what can I say, women have been throwin’ their panties and bras at rockstars for as long as there’s been rock ‘n roll. It’s the burden of being the subject of their worship.”
“Hell, I’ve had a few thrown at me, Miss Tattle,” Tamara interjected.
“Oh, honey,” Josie replied, looking sympathetically at Tamara before turning her attention back to Jag.
“I also found this baggy in the restr-” She began, holding up a small plastic baggy clearly holding the residue of some sort of white powder.
“I wouldn’t be pickin’ things like that up from a bathroom, Josie,” Jag replied dismissively, “But I think that’s enough questions for now. If you don’t mind, this is a party and my sweet cheeks needs a drink.” Jag added, giving a playful smack to Tamara’s ass that elicited an excited squeal from between her lips.
“I’ll find you later then,” Josie called.
“Yeah,” Jag muttered.
“You do that.”
Nosey bitch.
