Miley and Friends

Miley and Paris have one last fling before Paris has to leave. Miley invites me to the show and then backstage for more fun and games. A visit to her dressing room turns into an exceptional experience when Miley's assistant joins in.

Chapter 3

The three of us sat around eating breakfast. It was a hearty breakfast of eggs, bacon, grits, toast, Danish pastries, bagels with assorted spreads, orange juice and, of course, champagne. Paris had never experienced grits and wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure I like this. They're so bland, and the texture is so...gritty."

Between mouthfuls Miley said "They're better with gravy, but you need to put lots of butter on them."

I added, with a glance at Miley "Some have been known to put sugar on them"

"Sacrilege!"

We moved out onto the terrace so Miley could smoke. The morning was chillier than the day before so we wrapped in our robes.

Miley looked around "This is a pretty nice place. One of the better ones I've stayed at. While I used my manager's card, I think they know who I really am yet have kept things private for us. You have no idea how sneaky some people can be to get close enough to take a photograph they can sell. They would have loved to have a shot of me letting that guy feel my ass last night. Anything to make me appear wild."

"You ARE wild, my dear," Paris commented. "But I know what you mean. They follow me everywhere, too. I even found one hiding in a bathroom once."

I shook my head. "I can't imagine living like that. But they miss the real you, each of you. Yeah, you know how to have a good time, but they don't realize how nice each of you is. Chris commented that he was impressed with how you treated the hotel staff. He said celebrities stay at his hotel often and seem to think they own the place, ordering people around and generally being rude, even trashing the rooms. Some don't even tip the staff for carrying their bags or bringing room service. You are generous, Miley, and I know you appreciate your fans, just not to the point of being smothered by them."

We went back inside, and Paris checked her messages. "Shit, I forgot I have a meeting with some TV people at four this afternoon. Let me check online and see what my options are."

Miley and I knocked off the last of the champagne when Paris reappeared. "I have a flight out at two. With the time change that will get me there in time. My manager will meet me at LAX."

"Wouldn't you rather fly on a charter?"

"This will be fine. I got first class. They're used to having celebrities in first and don't make a big deal of it, so I'll be okay."

"That doesn't give us much time to play, does it? Robes off!"

The robes were tossed over the back of the sofa and we headed to Miley's room.

Miley put a finger to her lips in mock contemplation. "Let's see, now. Paris, what part of him do you want?"

"Doesn't matter to me. I like it all."

"Then I'll take his cock. Doug, assume the position!"

I had an idea of where this was going, so I laid on my back. Sure enough, Miley took me in her mouth long enough to get me completely hard, then straddled me and lowered herself onto my shaft. Paris sat on my chest and wriggled forward until my tongue could reach her.

Miley alternated up and down with rocking back and forth. I used my fingers to spread Paris wide. The stretched labia got a good tongue workout and she moved her hips to bring my tongue to her vagina and up to her clit. I reached up to knead a breast, and used my other hand to reach around Paris to play with the Miley clit piercing. Paris showed signs of climaxing, so I brought my hands back to her vulva to use my fingers in concert with my tongue. Miley stopped her movement and reached around Paris to play with her breasts. She rubbed her hands over the nipples and breasts matching Paris' movement of her hips on me. Paris made a sort of whining sound that morphed into a moan. She shoved her hips forward and grabbed my hair, pulling my face into her. I tongued her until she went rigid and flooded my mouth. Miley leaned forward and kissed Paris on the neck.

Paris, still in a bit of reverie, rolled off me and gently played a hand over the wetness between her legs. Miley resumed pumping and leaned forward so I could play with her breasts. When I couldn't hold it any more I filled her. She pumped harder and leaned down to kiss me as she came, pulsing around my cock.

When she finished she dismounted and asked Paris "Want to finish it?" Paris leaned over and licked me as I softened. Miley then leaned to Paris and kissed her. Paris drew back and licked her lips. "Mmm. I got a good taste of you on him. You do taste good, Miley.

"Have some more." Miley swung a leg over to straddle Paris, turned herself around and settled herself onto Paris' face as she lowered her head to Paris' pussy. Paris readily parted Miley and licked and sucked her way around the soft bare flesh. I could tell from Miley's head movements that she was going to town on Paris. I don't know how long they were at it, but Paris began to make grunting sounds and then moaned louder than before. I watched her thrust her hips up at Miley. Miley writhed, her pussy wiping on Paris' face. Her scream was muffled as she slammed her face down into Paris' pussy, almost screaming into her vagina.

Miley rolled off of Paris and the two of them lay with their eyes closed and chests heaving. Miley sat up first, and grabbed Paris' arm to help her sit up.

"Now you got a good taste. What do you think?"

"As usual you taste good, Miley, although it was a blend. Musky on the nose with notes of saltiness, a hint of semen, and a clean finish." We all laughed at Paris describing sex fluids like fine wine.

Paris sighed and went to her room to pack. Miley touched my arm. "Come to my show tonight."

"I've got to be at work tomorrow."

"Would a redeye get you in too late?"

"I do have some flexibility in my schedule. If I'm a little late I can just work a little later. We aren't on strict schedules. A lot of what I do is independent work."

"So, you can come to the show? You can have a backstage pass for after the show. I promise I'll make it worth your while." She ran her hand up and down my thigh as she talked.

"Jeez, I'd have to find a last minute place to stay. With a big show in town hotels will be tight."

"Stay here another night."

"I can't afford this place."

"But I can. I'll tell you what...my treat. I'll spring for a room service dinner, too. And I'll upgrade your plane ticket home to first class. Just get me the flight details before one. I've got rehearsal and blah, blah, blah, or I'd sweeten it even more. Have I sweetened the pot enough?"

"You talked me into it. I'll go out and buy some earplugs."

She laughed and gently punched my arm. "We do get kind of loud during the show. And, Doug, I didn't mean what I said about popping a tit on purpose tonight. I'll keep it clean, more or less. But wardrobe malfunctions have been known to occur."

The three of us piled into my rental car and drove to the airport to drop Paris off. I was concerned with her mingling with the crowds, but she said "Nobody expects me here. I'm all checked in so I just need to tag my bags, get through security and then hide away in the airline club until the flight is called. The clubs always take care of me. Thanks for everything, Doug. You've restored my faith in men...and myself. If you're ever in LA give me a call. I gave you my private cell number. Maybe I'll even find myself in your neck of the woods someday. I'd like to get together again. I mean it."

I didn't know what to say, but she kissed me, opened the door, plopped the airline pilot hat on her head, checked her bags at the curbside bag check, and headed into the crowds in Hartsfield terminal.

Miley was quiet as I drove her to the Georgia Dome. We found where the fleet of trucks and buses were, and convinced a security guard that she was really Miley Cyrus. We located her bus and transferred her luggage. She gave me a tour of her bus. I didn't see much difference between the hotel suite and the bus except for the size. She had a bedroom, bathroom, bar and lounge with a sofa and comfy chairs where she could watch videos, listen to music or visit with anyone she had along. Of course, there was wifi.

Before she left she kissed me. "I meant what I said earlier. I want to see you after the show. I have something for you. You will have a ticket and passes at the Will Call window. They will simply be labeled 'Doug.' After the show look for Bruiser. He's the gate keeper, and he's on the right side of the stage."

"Stage right or house right? I've done some acting in Community Theater."

She laughed. "House right."

"And I'll know this Bruiser?"

"Oh yeah! You'll know who he is. Trust me."

With another kiss she was off.

I drove out of the city to see where Laura and I had lived. Memories came back of the time we lived there. But I had to leave all that behind. I did stop for a late lunch at a deli we used to frequent and then returned to the hotel.

With a little time to kill I headed for the pool again. Several people were there, including Debra. She swam over to me. "Hi."

"Hi. Looking forward to the show?"

"OMG! I'm in here for something to do other than stare at the clock and wait until time to go, you know?"

"Yeah, me too. It seems Miley remembered our meeting a few weeks ago and invited me to the show as a way to thank me for being nice to her."

"Oh, wow! Hey, look for me tonight. I studied a seating chart online and found we're only ten rows back!"

"I don't have my ticket yet, so I don't know where my seat is. Maybe I'll wave to you from the balcony. You'll be so close you'll be able to see her sweat."

"Eww. Gross."

"You want to be in the show, you'd better get used to hot lights."

"I never thought of that."

I swam a few laps, dodging other swimmers, and she kept pace with me. When I finished she came up to me again. "Sorry. I don't mean to intrude on your space, but you actually know Miley! Being near you is probably as close as I'll ever get to meeting her."

"You never know, Debra. You never know."

I had a nice dinner in the room, and got ready for the show. There was an opening act, some band from the eighty's, probably selected to appease the parents who brought their tweens and teens. Miley wasn't due to start until nine, but I wanted to allow ample time in case there was a long line at the ticket window.

In fact, the line was about twenty deep, but moved quickly since people were just picking up tickets. When I reached the window the girl asked my name. "Doug."

"Doug what?"

"It's supposed to be just under 'Doug'."

She shook her head doubtfully as she riffled through the envelopes. "I'll be darned. Here it is."

She opened the envelope to make sure the correct ticket was inside and her eyes widened. "A little message from Miley herself that the ticket is for you. VIP. Front row. And three backstage passes. Lucky you! Enjoy the show, Doug." I checked the envelope myself and found another note from Miley tucked down inside it 'Give the two extra passes to Debra and her dad if you can find them.'

I certainly had never sat any closer than upper level at any concert I've attended, so had to ask my way around to the proper entrance. I actually recognized the music the warm-up band was playing, and was sorry I hadn't arrived earlier. The ushers held us back until the band was finished with a number, and between numbers I was shown my seat. Front row on an aisle.

After the first band ended their set the lights came up and I cast an eye around for Debra and her dad, but didn't see them right off the bat.

When the lights went down for the Miley show the arena turned into a screaming sea of cell phones and camera flashes, hoping to record something of the show. I was enthralled at Miley's showmanship, although I had to agree with Debra's dad that her costumes left little to the imagination. At intermission I went out to buy a drink. I thought I caught a glimpse of Debra in the concourse, but the mob of excited teenagers wearing their new Miley tour shirts soon swallowed her up.

The second half was, if possible, better that the first. I liked the way Miley talked to the crowd between numbers, almost like she was having a conversation with them. As the band began behind her for one number she pointed out into the crowd behind me. "This one is for Debra from Louisville." Before she even got out a note I heard a squeal of delight behind me, and could distinctly make out "Did you hear that, dad? She is doing this one for me!" That gave me an idea of the general direction their seats were. All around heads were craned to see who this Debra was.

I turned partway around and caught sight of Debra bouncing up and down. That's when I knew that Miley really was a nice person.

I'm certainly not up on the Miley repertoire, but there was one number I knew that was missing from her playlist in the show. I shouldn't have worried. The final number was 'Wrecking Ball'. What appeared to be an oversize wrecking ball descended from above and Miley straddled it. The 'ball' appeared to have a seat molded into the top and a support made of some clear material surrounded and supported her. While backup dancers swirled around I saw crew members fasten a safety line between the ball support cable and something on her costume. The ball rose into the air and began to go around the arena at balcony level, with spotlights following her all the way. I craned my neck to watch it slowly go around and tried to figure out how it could be rigged to move like that.

What a clever idea - giving the 'cheap seats' a close-up view of her. A wave of camera flashes followed her as she travelled around at balcony level. The words were repeated several times and there were instrumental interludes to stretch the song to an appropriate length. As the ball approached the stage again it began to descend, and Miley alit as the band ended the song to a tumultuous ovation from the crowd - clapping, screaming whistling and generally jumping around. The crowd was ready for more, but the lights came up. Always leave them happy but wanting more.

After the house lights came up there was a rush to the entry to the backstage area. Some were let in, but no amount of cajoling, pleading or lying could persuade Bruiser to let anyone in. Miley was correct. There was no mistaking Bruiser. He appeared to stand about six-four and had shoulders as wide as a door. If Bruiser didn't want to let you in you didn't get by him.

I went up the aisle until I found the row where Debra and her dad had seats, counting on Debra still being there, basking in the experience. I edged into the almost empty row and found Debra, as I expected, standing and looking all around the arena, trying to memorize everything and taking a video panorama of the arena. Her dad was eager to go, but she wanted to soak up as much as she could. I finally caught her eye. "Doug! Wasn't that an amazing show?"

"It was, and it's about to get more amazing for you, Debra." I thought she would faint when I handed her the passes. Her hands shook as she looked at them. "Can we go, dad? Can we?"

Her dad eyed me. I explained "I know Miley, and Debra told me at the hotel pool what a big fan she is, so Miley invited Debra back to meet her."

"That's where I've seen you. I was a little leery of an older guy talking to my daughter, and warned her to be careful."

"Understandable. If I had a daughter I would do the same. Should we go talk to Bruiser?"

We showed Bruiser the passes and he checked our names on a list he had on a clipboard. He took the radio from his belt and spoke into it, and turned back to us "Someone will be with you in just a moment. Please wait over there."

Debra was nearly beside herself with anticipation. I wondered why we had to wait when others were let in with no questions asked.

In a few minutes Bruiser motioned for us, and he stepped aside for us while holding out his hands to stop some others who tried to squeeze in with us. A rather slight woman who I guessed to be about my age greeted us. "I'm Cynthia. I'm Miley's all around assistant. I'll take you to her."

As she helped us weave through the swirling masses of visitors Cynthia explained "I assist with her costumes and work with the dresser who helps her change costumes between numbers. It's all very split second; those changes have to be made in a hurry. I make sure the costumer has all the appropriate costumes lined up in the proper order. I arrange the hair dresser and makeup schedules. I deal with any problems during the show. And, I escort certain VIP's to her dressing room, like now."

I said "It sounds like it would be easier to list what you DON'T do."

She laughed as she continued to shoulder her way through the sea of well wishers in the hallway. Miley had apparently dealt with most of those who had come to see her, but there were many people in the cast and it seemed they all had visitors, laughing and shouting over the general din. "You got that right! I haven't listed half of it. I even bring in coffee or...other refreshments if needed. A lot of what I do is made up as we go along. It helps that Miley and I get along so well. Well, here we are."

Cynthia knocked on the door and cracked it open when Miley said something. "Your guests are here."

Miley said something else to her and Cynthia opened the door wide for us and spoke to Miley. "I'll be outside if you need anything."

"Thanks Cindy. You're a dear."

The door closed and we found Miley had removed a portion of the costume she had worn last. She still wore a flesh colored leotard and was barefoot. She had undone her hair from the tight rings she had worn on top of her head, and it hung in loose curls. The room was utilitarian, with a counter and mirror surrounded by lights, chair, costume closet, a cot for naps. Two vases of flowers, one roses and the other a colorful bouquet, were perched on the end of the counter. When I looked closely at the colorful one Miley raised a questioning eyebrow at me, and I nodded that I had sent them. I had ordered them over the phone but hadn't seen them until I entered the room.

She gave me a hug and Debra as well, but shook her father's hand. "I'm glad you could all make it. Did you enjoy the show, Debra?"

Debra was so star struck she could barely stammer "wow...it was the best ever...I'll never forget it...I can't believe I'm talking to Miley Cyrus!"

I added sheepishly "Actually you've spoken to her before."

"Huh?"

"I told you a little fib. That really was Miley and Paris Hilton in the elevator the other day. The rest is true. Chris and I had become friends with Miley and we were really meeting for a nice weekend. Miley gets hounded by fans and photographers, so sometimes she likes to get away and be anonymous. Sorry for the deception down at the pool, but it seemed prudent to protect Miley."

Miley laughed. "If you remember, I never actually denied I was me."

"But you said...oh, yeah...it was me who said it wasn't really you."

"Right. Doug was just helping to protect my privacy, as a friend should. But you're here now. I understand you want to be a dancer in the show. You have a dancer's body. How good are you?"

"Well...I've taken lessons since I was about five. I do tap, interpretive dance, jazz, some ballet, you know? And I've taken gymnastics off and on since I was eight."

"How are you doing in school?"

"School? Okay, I guess."

Debra's father interjected "She could do much better if she tried harder."

"Dad!"

"Here's my advice, Debra. Keep up with your dancing. Be as good as you can be, but do your best in school, too. Listen to your dad."

"How did you do in school?"