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From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat)
Subject: {ASSM} She Was a Boy Band Groupie 1/3 (M+F oral anal interr)  
Date: Sun, 28 May 2000 22:10:16 -0400
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This work contains graphic depictions of sex acts.
Please do not continue if this makes you uncomfortable,
or violates laws in your part of the world.

This story is Copyright 2000 by Jimmy Hat (jimmy@jimmy-hat.com)
----------------------------------------------------------------------

She Was A Boy Band Groupie


"My advice is, no one goes out and no one comes in," Agent Gerald
Maytag said. 

The faces of the young men scattered around the hotel suite
dropped. "That is such bullshit!" one declared. It was Josh
Cynwood, called JC most of the time. 

"Yeah, what the fuck is this?" asked Ricky Derringer. Like JC he
was in his early twenties, and they shared the same short
fashionable haircut, gelled and brushed carefully to make it look
like they just got out of bed. But JC wore excessively baggy
jeans and an LA Kings hockey sweater, while Derringer favored a
tighter look: black leather pants and tight fitting black
t-shirt. A loose fitting gold chain hung at Derringer's wrist and
caught the light of the room as he raised his arms in argument.
"I mean, we're not under arrest, right?" 

"No," Agent Heather Stanton admitted. "You're not." 

"Fuckin' A," JC announced. "I'm 5000. How 'bout you, Brick?" 

Jason Brickhouse ran a dark hand over his short kinky hair in
thought. He licked his lips and stood up. "Yeah, man, this hotel
is whack. Let's do this town." 

"Sit down, JC! You too, Brick." The voice belonged to Wade De
Martin, the oldest member of "4 Players" and some said the most
talented. 

"You're gonna go along with this shit, Wade D?" asked Derringer. 

"I think we should at least listen to why they think we need to
stay here tonight." Wade gestured around the private suite as if
it were the proverbial last place on earth. 

Maytag took that as his cue to speak, but he was interrupted by
the ring of a cell phone. Everyone in the suite instinctively
reached for their pocket, but it was JC that spoke. 

"'Sup," he announced in a detached voice that didn't match the
speed with which he answered the phone. "Oh, shit, G, wassup?" JC
grew more involved with his conversation, and Maytag wondered if
he should continue his explanation or wait. 

Wade noticed. "He'll be on that thing all night," he said. "Just
ignore him." 

"First of all," Maytag began, "now that Johnny O is dead we have
to take these threats seriously." 

"I thought he OD'd?" Derringer asked. 

"It certainly looks that way," Agent Stanton said. "But Maytag
and I haven't seen the coroner's report yet, and we don't want to
take any chances." 

"Oh, shit!" JC exclaimed into his mobile phone. "I'm feelin' ya,
brother! I am feeling you!" 

Ignoring JC, Maytag added, "Our concern is especially high since
you received that note this morning." He was referring to a
letter that arrived for them at the hotel. It was a page from a
hardcore pornographic magazine depicting a man and woman having
sex. The man's head was cut out of the picture and taped
elsewhere on the page, surrounded in red ink. A caption has been
added as well: "It Just Isn't Worth It." 

JC ended the call and looked over at Wade. "We cool? Cuz I gots
to jet." 

"It looks like we're not going anywhere," Wade said. 

"Fuck that, Wade D," JC said. "I can't have this man. We're up
here, and the hotties are down there." 

"Yeah, man," added Derringer. "This is bullshit. Why can't you
just follow us like real bodyguards?" 

"We don't have the manpower," Maytag admitted. 

"Why not let people come up here?" Jason Brickhouse asked. 

"We can let crew members in," Stanton replied. "We've done
background checks for them." 

"Listen, lady," Derringer said, "I am not going to stay up here
and party with the fuckin' roadies." 

"Seriously, yo," JC said flashing his hands in front of him as if
he were juggling his words. "I have to get laid tonight." 

"You may want to reconsider partying with the roadies, then,"
Maytag said. 

JC's phone rang again, and he answered it with the same "'Sup"
greeting as before. 

"Maybe you can stick the phone in your pocket and put it on
vibrate mode," Stanton suggested. The discussion was over. All 4
One was confined to the hotel suite. Maytag and Stanton left the
suite as very unpopular figures. 

Standing by the bank of elevators, Maytag said "I give them an
hour before they try to talk us into letting them go out." 

Stanton snorted. "Wanna bet? I say they don't last fifteen
minutes." 

"No bet," Maytag said with his palms upraised. "I suspect before
the night is over we may have to bribe them or handcuff them to
keep them from leaving." 

While they waited for the inevitable interruption, the two agents
discussed the death of John Osage, the recording artist and teen
idol known as Johnny O. He was found dead in his hotel room,
apparently from a drug overdose. Yet everyone from Johnny O's
agent to his Zen mentor claimed he never touched narcotics. No
drug paraphernalia was found at the scene. If it was homicide, it
was a mystery how the deed was done. 

"I think a forced injection is out of the question," Stanton
said. 

Maytag ran a hand through his hair. "Agreed. No sign of struggle
at the scene, no obvious marks on the body." 

"Could be poison," Stanton suggested. "Someone could have tainted
his food, maybe slipped something in his drink." 

"We won't know anything until the toxicology report comes back,"
Maytag said. "Besides, it may have nothing to do with our case.
It may just be coincidence." 

Wade interrupted them. "I hope you don't mind," he said. "I just
wanted some fresh air." 

Maytag checked his watch. "I would have won." 

Wade looked confused. "Nothing," Stanton said. "Everything OK in
there?" 

"Yeah," Wade answered. "They ordered some pay-per-view movie." 

"Anything good?" Stanton asked. 

"Uh," Wade stammered. "'The Bare Witch Project.' It's a porno." 

Maytag raised his eyebrows. "I think this may be the first case in
history where the porn spoof of a movie actually has the higher
budget! I have to get a look at this. What do you say, Stanton?" 

"I think I'll skip this one," she said. "I already read the
book." 

"Your choice. How about you, Wade?" 

"Nah, I'm cool," he answered as Maytag left the hall. His words
and manners hung as easily as the silk shirt that flowed over his
torso and swayed loose outside his trousers. Wade wore no jewelry
save a wristwatch, and his hair was neat but stylish. Other than
Stanton he was the only one in the hall, but she had the feeling
he would stand out no matter how many people were around. There
was something about him, a presence. It inspired a question. 

"So," Stanton began. "Rumors are that you may leave the group?" 

For a moment Wade seemed surprised, but his easy smile returned.
"I thought we might have a nice little conversation," he said.
"And now you sound like a reporter." 

"I'm sorry," Stanton replied. "That just popped out." 

"No problem, I was just teasing." he assured her. "But those
rumors are going around and it's tough to answer the same
questions all the time." 

"I apologize," Stanton said again. "Forget I even said that." 

Wade studied her; his dark eyes made contact with her bright
blues. "Actually, I don't mind. In fact it might be nice to talk
about this with someone who won't write an article about it or go
and talk to our agent about it. And you 
wouldn't do that, would you Agent Stanton?" He smiled again,
broadly, revealing that he had dimples. 

"Please," she said. "Call me Heather." 

"Heather," he repeated with a mellifluous voice that helped sell
one million albums. He flashed his broad smile. 

Wade went on to explain that he liked all the guys in the band,
that they grew up together. Now that they were successful, when
they should be happiest together, reporters and agents kept
trying to split them apart. There was tension where there was
none before. 

"Between you and Derringer," Stanton remarked. 

"You noticed, huh?" 

Stanton nodded her head. "But JC and Brickhouse seem to be on
your side. They listened when you told them to stay put." 

"It's the same thing as Derringer," Wade replied. "They think I'm
going to go solo. But instead of acting hostile like Derringer,
they go along with what I want - not to rock the boat, y'know.
Sometimes they side with him, though. Like the next argument,
probably. We should change the name of the band from 4 Players to
something like 3 Players Against One. That's what it feels like
sometimes." 

The conversation drifted to less serious matters. It moved slow
and easy, circling in an eddy sometimes around one topic,
bubbling with laughter before floating on to a new topic. An hour
went by without either realizing it. 

They were so involved in their dialogue that Maytag's entrance
seemed a sudden invasion. "You know, bad lighting is usually a
problem with porn, but there was something really sexy about
flashlights in the forest." 

"Good one?" Wade asked. 

"I've seen much worse," Maytag said. "Stanton can vouch for
that." 

She ignored the request for comments. "Everything still OK in
there?" 

"They started to hit the mini-bar. Maybe a little restless, but
not so bad." 

"I better head back in," Wade said. "Don't want anyone to think I
wandered off." 

"I'll come with you," Stanton said. As an afterthought she added,
"You OK out here Maytag?" 

"No problem," he answered. "Maybe you can help them decide on the
next one. It's either 'Wet Nurse 3' or 'Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern Give Head.'" 

"Oh, I love costume dramas," Stanton said as they went from the
hall to the suite. 

Inside the suite, beer cans littered the coffee table. Jason
Brickhouse looked up from his seat on the sofa. "Hey, Wade's
back." 

JC looked back over his shoulder. "Wade D, man, you just missed
like the worst fuckin' porno ever. There was these three smokin'
hotties but you couldn't see shit because they kept using
flashlights and shit." 

Derringer watched as Stanton followed behind Wade. He took a sip
from his beer, then gestured to Stanton. "Hey, Wade, I hope you
brought enough for everyone." 

"What was that?" Wade asked. He took a step toward Derringer. 

Brickhouse looked away from the television and watched Derringer
and Wade intently. JC stood up from his chair. Stanton gauged her
distance from Derringer and took a step closer herself. "Wade,"
she said, "That was just a joke." 

Derringer did not move his gaze from Wade. "Yeah, Wade. Just a
joke. Now you and Yoko can continue your little party while the
three of us sit here with our thumbs up our ass." 

This was it, Stanton thought. The playboy musicians suffered
through two hours of hyper cabin fever, drank a bit too much, and
now the fight was going to break out. Although she had confidence
in her fighting ability, she knew this was a no win situation.
Stanton guessed that if she held back Wade then Derringer would
attack anyway. Most likely JC or Brickhouse would jump in, and
the hotel suite would end up taking the brunt of the damage. If
she accosted Derringer, someone other than Wade would jump in,
Wade would defend her, and the result would be the same. 

Maytag might help, but it was too late to fetch him. Should he
stumble in on his own, things might get better, or worse. No
matter which we she imagined it, the calculus added to hotel
damage, a trip to the hospital, and a lot of explaining to do in
the morning. Unless... 

"I don't think there's any need to fight over me," Stanton said. 

Derringer and Wade continued their staring contest. "Who said
anything about you?" Derringer asked. 

"Why you did, Derringer," Stanton replied, moving behind him. She
slinked over to the couch and sat down, taking in an eyeful of JC
and Brickhouse before speaking again. "And in answer to your
question, I think there's plenty of me for everyone." 

Derringer turned part way to face her. "Is that so?" 

"Don't let him bully you, Heather," Wade said. 

That brought Derringer's attention back to Wade. "So we're on a
first name basis, huh, Wade?" 

"You can call me Heather, too, if you like, Derringer." 

"So, what are you like some sort of groupie now?" asked JC. 

"I wouldn't go that far," Stanton said. "After all, you haven't
given me any reason to want to stay here and pass the time with
you." 

"Like cash?" JC asked. 

Brickhouse slapped JC on the arm hard enough to knock him off
balance. "Don't be an asshole, JC!" 

"What did I say?" JC demanded. 

"JC," Derringer said, "If you don't get your foot out of your
mouth I'm gonna send my fist in there to take it out for you."
Derringer turned his attention back to Stanton. "Now you were
saying?" 

"I wasn't saying anything," Stanton replied. "I was hinting." 

"And what were you hinting at?" Brickhouse asked in his deep bass
voice, his best Barry White imitation. He acted as if he knew the
answer to his question already. 

"That I could be seduced," Stanton said. 

"You don't have to do this," Wade said. His face showed his
concern. 

Stanton tried to dispel his doubts with a look. When her blue
eyes melted away half his worry, she licked at the side of her
lips and attacked the remainder. "Maybe I'd like to be seduced,"
she said. 

JC ignored the advice of his friends and asked, "Just how are we
supposed to do that?" 

"Well, you guys sing," Stanton said with equal bluntness. "Why
not serenade me?" She leaned back in her chair and crossed her
arms in front of her, waiting for their response. 

The boys looked at one another, and Wade D gestured with his
hands for them to gather around him. They huddled and listened
while he whispered. Heads began nodding in agreement. 

Derringer started to leave the huddle, but Wade D. reeled him
back to the group. "We're going to start like this," he said.
Aside from JC's outburst, it was the only bit of their conference
that Stanton heard. She leaned back in her chair without knowing
what to expect. 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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