September 8, 2005 – Stones Nipple
Train.
So, for some time, I kept hearing the
rich and ridiculous people of L.A. talk about getting Stones tickets
for the Bigger Bang tour. The most horrible occasion occurred
was when I was sitting in on a conference call with Gay Rosenthal.
Some snotty executive from Lifetime asked Gay if she had gotten her
tickets yet, and she replied, “Of course! Right up front.”
The lady couldn’t give 2 shits about who Brian Jones was or would
be hard pressed to explain what Sticky Fingers meant. I would’ve
loved to have slapped her with a 2 x 4 Hacksaw Jim Duggan style.
Hundreds of dollars were being shelled out so that hoity toits could
be seen at the concert. Gross. Welcome to L.A. Myself,
I’d always thought it’d be fun to see them…but I wasn’t about
to plop down a car payment for a nosebleed seat at the Hollywood Bowl.
Fuck that.
I was getting coffee this morning at
the weird rainbow-colored kitchen station at work when a friend of mine
from the Tape Library, Eden, was passing by, and he asked me if I was
a big Stones fan. “Sure,” I said. Why not. This
was obviously leading to something. He proceeded to whisper,
“They might be playing a secret show tonight.” As it goes,
the former guitarist from Keith Richards Acoholics band plays every
Monday at this little club called the Joint down on Wilshire.
Whenever the Stones have been in town in the past, either Keith or the
whole band ends up showing up there. It just so happened that
today was Monday, and it was the Stones night off from jiggling wrinkles
at the mass venues. Well, well, well, this seemed like a nice
little opportunity, particularly because the Stones had been given some
BOHO wear to sport on the tour. Calls were made and the Society
would descend on the Joint later that night.
Unfortunately, being Bohemians, we were
rather lackadaisical about getting there and ended up in the butt of
a rather long and nasty line filled with aging groupies and drunkards
from Chicago, all of them in Rolling Stones paraphernalia right down
to the g-strings and turtlenecks. It didn’t look pretty.
The Joint was already full and we were a hundred people back.
The drunk guy from Chicago next to me swilled some beer and asked me
if I thought we’d get in. “I don’t think so, man. It’s
really far away.” Little hiccup cartoons popped around his head
as he replied, “Man, I can walk that far!” thinking I was making
a drunk joke about him. Dear God. Mavis showed up with 3
girls and a dude in tow. The girls were hot, the blonde named
Amy looked like a pretty version of that chick from Dawson’s Creek.
Her little nipples were poking out from under her sweater and I was
most pleased. Her friend’s name was Claudia and the dude’s
name was Jonathan, incidentally, just so you know for later. The
bouncer guy came by and told us to fuck off and leave, and lucky for
Victor, he was so Bohemian, he hadn’t even left home yet.
It was soon decided that there was no
way in Hell we were going to make it in, titties weren’t even going
to work this time…so Mavis and I made our exit and offered the invitation
to the girls to come join us for drinks at his place. The girls
and said dude were going to stay behind and try and fight their way
in. Good luck.
An hour or so later, I was downin’
vodka diet cokes, Mavis was downin’ Heferweizen and we were still
waiting on the girls. Impatient, Mavis called up Edith and she
immediately appeared. She was oozing sex. We all took some
morphine and all seemed right with the world. I felt like a little
Cosby Jello Man floating about the apartment, and it suddenly seemed
rather large and cavernous. With my jello legs dangling beneath
me, I floated into the kitchen. Mavis was hovering above the sink,
studying stains on his counter from a new perspective. We had
some sort of conversation involving 45RPM words spun at 33. I
think it sounded something like this:
MAVIS: “hhhhheeyyyyy, mmmmaaaaaaaan,”
FOX: “hhhheeeeeeyyyy.”
MAVIS: “nnnnnniiiiiisssss.”
FOX: “shhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiizzzmmmm.”
MAVIS: “llllllooooooormmmm.”
FOX: “BBBBiiiipppsss.”
MAVIS: “Noooottttinnnghaaaaammmm.”
FOX: “kkkkkkkiiiiiilllllttttssss.”
MAVIS: “Yyyesss….yooooouuu
arrrree riiiiighhht, Mooorrttimmmmerrrrr Ppppppennnn.”
We floated over to the doorway and saw
Edith floating about the living room, looking for her vodka diet coke.
She was drinking them too, and she liked them, and I was most impressed.
I told her it was an Irish Drink, but I’m not really sure if that’s
true or not. It was right about then that Jonathan magically appeared
with the girls. They were drunk as piss and bouncing off the walls.
Apparently the margaritas and martinis at the Abbey had served them
well. As you might expect, more drinks were made and a dance party
began. 3 guys and 3 girls shaking it about.
There was definitely a turning point,
a moment, so to speak. Mavis and Jonathan were laying about on
the couch and suddenly I was surrounded by all three girls. I
felt like the Barber from Something Wicked This Way Comes when the kids
peek in on him and in the strange candlelit tent. Right before
the devil takes him away. It was hard to figure out where to put
my hands, there were so many options. And good lord man, it was
hard to concentrate with 6 hands fondling your naughties.
From there it descended into everyone
dancing, there were many sex trains, lots of grinding. In a flash
of brilliance, the tops came off and suddenly it was a topless dancing
party. Titties flopping about, strange hairy chests gyrating.
The girls took control, and we were glad to oblige. The girls
started making out, wet tongues lashing about, sucking on titties.
Flashes of images is all I have. All three girls were making out
on a chair, crushing each other, unable to decide if they wanted eat
carpet or try and breathe. Then every guy had a girl, rubbing
nipples, necking, grabbing asses, rubbing hot spots. We were ordered
by the women to switch off between girls, and we did so. It was
a Baskin Robbins with only 3 flavors, but they were all chocolate, if
you know what I mean. At some point there was a line dance to the Hustle
and for some reason we took a break to label some postcards for an upcoming
Carnegie Mellon Christmas Alumni Party that Mavis was hosting.
Then there was more dancing and rubbing and thrusting. Everyone
was sweaty, we were sliding all over each other. I sucked on someone’s
nipples and there was much moaning. It descended into a musical
chairs of groping and dry humping, and yes, even more moaning.
3:30 came and Jonathan had decided he’d had enough and he stole the
girls away. Mavis and I walked the girls out and sucked on their
parts for awhile, the blonde girl Amy told me I had til next Wednesday
to seduce her, for that was when she would be leaving town. Hm.
Nice. See what happens there.
Mavis and I hung out for a bit after that,
and I had some strange fantasies about inviting those girls over for
a Saturday night of X and sex dances. I was astonished to find
that Claudia was Jonathan’s girlfriend. Fuckin weird.
That guy’s totally gay. He loves the Abbey for Chrissakes.
Come to find out the next day, none of the Stones showed at the Joint. Just the weird black guy who sings back-up vocals for them. Guess we didn’t miss much.
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