*** This story is not so much about the celebrity as about the female involved ***
Rod the Mod was not a kid anymore, but he still had plenty left in the tank. Back in the 90's, he still had a way with a tune, as well as an eye for the ladies.
A lot of the ladies wanted to catch that wayward eye, and one woman in particular was willing to do almost anything to change the rhythm of his heart when his tour stopped in her city.
.........
Chapter 1 - Not Forever Young.
Monica rearranged the straps of her new bra, trying to get the look she wanted and still have some degree of comfort. It was going to be a long night, and Monica hoped that if everything worked out the way she had planned, it might be even longer.
The figure that Monica saw in the mirror wasn't that of a model, and she noted that her recent attempts to shed the 20 extra pounds she was carrying in time for the concert had not worked. She was still plump - chubby but at least solid - despite the hours of exercise.
"Too late now," Monica noted glumly, stepping back and giving herself a self-appraisal. "He'll have to take me as I am - if he even takes me at all."
The legs were shapely but still full, and emphasized her short stature of 5'2". Monica's waist was thick but solid and the butt was big but still pretty firm. Her arms were a little fleshy as well, and as Monica lifted them she checked to make sure that her pits were still smooth, even though she had already shaved them so many times the skin was becoming a faint pink.
The breasts. That was what she had going for herself, and she knew it. Unhooking the bra and swinging it away from her breasts as they lurched down after being freed from their support, Monica looked at her massive bosom from both sides and from the front.
She massaged the huge globes, trying to get rid of the marks her bra had left on the tender flesh, and felt her nipples pop out in response to her kneading.
Once again Monica pulled on the blouse she was going to wear and checked to see how it looked without a bra. The white sleeveless top was a struggle to get on, and when she saw how her breasts hung down to her waist, she knew that the bra-less look was not meant for her.
Maybe a few years ago she could have pulled it off. Before having the kids and turning 30, and before her breasts had gone from being merely large to their present state, she could go without a bra and not look absurd.
Now she looked outrageous without the support her breasts so obviously needed, and while she wanted to get her man's attention, she didn't want him to be looking and laughing. Rather, she wanted him to lick his lips and invite her backstage.
The man in question was not her husband, who would be off playing poker all night while she had to pay for a babysitter. The man she wanted was Rod Stewart, who Monica had adored all her life, and when she had managed to score front row tickets for the concert at Knickerbocker Arena, she aimed high.
Monica had fantasized about tonight over and over, and even though she knew in her heart that she would likely be one of thousands of women there who would be thinking the same thoughts and end up with only fond memories of the concert, it was fun to dream.
Off came the blouse, and back on went the bra. It was the nicest bra Monica had ever bought, and the outrageous price reflected it. Finding a bra that fit a woman of her dimensions and gave the necessary support along with not looking like some kind of battle armor wasn't easy.
Monica chuckled when she remembered going into Victoria's Secret and asking them if they made the Miracle Bra in her size. The woman looked at her like she was from another planet, and told her that they made those for women who wanted to make what they had look like more.
"That's what I want too," Monica said.
Suffice to say that they didn't make a Miracle Bra for women with a 42F bust, so Monica had to order a bra from a speciality store. While it did look nice, with the white lace and the low-cut front that exposed a whole lot of her cavernous cleavage, she wished that it made her breasts thrust out even further.
"Even if they crashed down when it came off," Monica said to herself, lamenting the problem of having naturally large breasts instead of the saline or silicone variety which were able to defy gravity and the aging process better.
Monica put the white shell blouse back on, and thought that she certainly looked alright in it. It was a large instead of her usual extra large, and the stretchy material was really getting a workout, making her look like she was ready to explode out of it.
"All for you, Rod," Monica said to the mirror, as the doorbell rang.
::
Chapter Two - Pre-concert warm-up.
"You have got to be kidding!" Barbara said as Monica let her in.
Monica knew that would be her friend Barbara's reaction, but she didn't really care. Barbara was a good friend, but she could be catty as hell.
"I think I look great," Monica said, pouring them shots of bourbon and downing her own without blinking.
"If you're trying to get attention, it's going to work."
"Well, if Rod sees me and likes what he sees, that's all that matters," Monica replied.
"It's just that the blouse is so tight, it makes your chest look even bigger than it is," Barbara noted.
"Good," Monica said, closing the discussion.
Barbara was fond of making comments about her chest, some in jest and some not, but Monica remembered that night many years ago, when they had gone out and had too much to drink. Monica had decided to stay at Barbara's house instead of driving, and while she was drunk when it happened she still remembered.
Monica remembered Barbara getting into bed with her and feeling her up for the longest time, pawing at her tits as eagerly as any guy ever hand. The next morning, when they saw each other, Barbara made a point of saying how drunk they had gotten and how she didn't remember anything.
Bullshit, Monica thought. She had a lot more to drink than Barbara had that night, and if Barbara was somebody that turned her on, she might have responded to her advances, instead of just letting her massage her breasts for what seemed like an hour. Barbara was just too dumpy to excite Monica.
Monica never mentioned the incident, but over the years she noticed that whenever Monica was getting dressed or undressed and Barbara was around, she would just happen to appear and idly chat while getting an eyeful. Even now, just standing there pouring a drink, Monica could feel Barbara's eyes on her straining blouse.
This didn't revolt her. Just the opposite. Monica enjoyed the attention her natural assets got from both men and women, and unless somebody was really vulgar, she loved being looked at. It was a payback for suffering with backaches from carrying them around 24/7.
"At least wearing that will keep you from getting attacked," Barbara noted as Monica put on a black blazer over her top.
