The following story can best be classified as "Creative Non-Fiction." The events the story is based upon took place, but the names (where included), locations, descriptions have all been changed to protect the innocent (as they used to say on "Dragnet").
All characters in the story are at least 18 years old.
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First Chance at Fifteen Minutes of Fame
I am working security at a concert venue in California, a part time gig occupying my nights with great music and good people to work around. One of the first job assignments I had was barely off-stage, keeping those who were not supposed to be there away from the performers.
It was a Friday night and the amphitheater was standing room only for a new and upcoming band with blonde lead singer. She was in her mid twenties, a few years older than my 23 years, and had a body that didn't quit. Her double-d's were barely contained in the black leather bustier she was donning, laced so tight I am surprised she could belt out the tunes. Her black leather mini skirt didn't quite cover her ass, flirting with the black leather, thigh high boots with six inch stiletto heels.
From my perspective off stage, she was a biker's wet dream come true with her hair ratted out and cascading down her back. I wish she was on the back of my Harley where I could get her alone instead of on stage, in front of eighteen thousand horny guys hoping to get a peek at what was beneath her sultry outfit.
The crowd surged when she got caught up in the music and wandered a little too close to the front of the stage. I saw the fence bow forward and the nearly wall-to-wall security detail at the front of the stage had it's hands full keeping the fans from rushing the stage. The general admission nature of the show had most of the audience on the floor, pushing to get as close as possible.
I spotted a gap in the line and this mousy guy slipped between the barricades and was climbing the stage as I edged closer to escort him off before he got to the singer. I looked across the stage at the other guy doing security on that side and he nodded. I looked back at the rabid fan, trying to judge the perfect time to grab him, so as not to disrupt the show, and I saw a glint of metal.
"Knife," I screamed and charged the guy, planning to tackle him on-stage in order to keep those under my care safe. As I neared him, I lowered my shoulder and let my two hundred pounds, toned from my day job in construction, do the talking. I must have misjudged his size because the next thing I know I am flying off the stage with this guy wrapped up in my arms, landing ten feet beyond the security barrier at the front of the stage.
I hole in the crowd opened up around us as I struggled to catch my breath from the impact and looked down at the guy. He ended up being the cushion I landed on as we hit the concrete floor and is worse for wear because of it. I saw someone picking up what I thought was the knife and I yell at them to hand it over. It ends up being a pair of scissors I am handed from the guy in the audience.
With that in hand, I picked up the guy, more accurately assessing his size and weight. He was probably five or six inches shorter than my six foot one, and fifty pounds lighter. No wonder I took him out so easily. I wrenched both of his arms up behind his back and pushed my way through the crowd to the edge of the stage, where the other on-stage security guy was waiting.
I missed the end of the show, including her top ten hit song, because I was backstage filling out the incident report with the local police department. In that interview, I learned the guy was known as the "Hair Bandit" because he was suspected in multiple cases where he clipped hair from unsuspecting women with whom he was attracted to, not just celebrities.
With the reports done and the guy being hauled off to jail, I ducked into the Green Room and grabbed a bottle of beer before making my way out back to my motorcycle. I was leaning on the seat, taking a deep draw of the amber gold when a long, black limo drove by. It stopped a few feet past and backed up while the rear window was being lowered.
"You're the guy who saved my hair," I heard from the car and the blonde stuck her head partially out the window. I nodded and she continued, "You know," in a slightly slurred voice, "I could use some security tonight at my hotel."
"Good luck with that," I replied, knowing it is late and I have had a long day.
"Are you up for the task?" she asked and bites her lower lip. I shrug my shoulders as I stand up, wincing from the pain of the impact on the floor earlier. I drained the beer as I walked over to the car and looked inside.
She was still in her on-stage outfit. "I guess I could manage that," I said.
"My hero," she slurred as the door opened. I slid in and sat next to her, as she only moved as much as needed for me to fit inside the car. I could smell her hair and the sweat from being on-stage, along with something else, something musky. She pulled my arm around her shoulders and turned towards me, leaning into me. I took the chance and kissed her. It was exactly what she wanted and kissed me back, hard. Even before we were out of the parking lot, she was straddling my lap as we swapped spit until neither of us could keep our hands to ourselves.
But the hotel was too close. We were there only moments later, or it seemed to only be moments, and the door was being opened before I wanted it to be. I heard a gasp from somebody nearby as she alighted from the limo, flashing whoever was present. I crawled out behind her, and my eyes were glued to her ass in that short skirt for a moment until I stepped up beside her and she wrapped her arms around mine as we entered the lobby.
Someone joined us in the elevator and I still cannot remember if it was a guy or a girl because the blonde I was with was kissing me in such a frenzy that all my attention was upon her. I actually carried her down the hallway to the room which was opened for us and the person ducked out of sight upon doing so.
With her legs wrapped around my waist and arms around my neck while kissing me, I am surprised I was able to find the bed to collapse into in the large suite on the top floor (this fact I learned later upon leaving).