You Give Love a Bad Name

My friends always tell me I should write my autobiography. I tell them that no one would believe me because my real life is stranger than the fiction I write. My life has not been a Bed of Roses but It's My Life. I mean stripper, preacher's wife, fundraiser and personal trainer just to name a few of my many careers. Then too I have screwed my share of famous and infamous men including a professional wrestler (before he was famous), a baseball player and the eighties 'hair band' singer in this story. Thing is that I don't believe in kissin' and telling, but I have left a few clues to his identity in this story about the worst fuck of my life.

It was Summertime 2000. I was recently divorced and had moved to Los Angeles. I was Living in Sin and Livin' on a Prayer, taking temporary work here and there, moving from one rental room to the next. At thirty-five, I was making No Apologies for my decision to Live Before You Die. Southern California was about more than Fast Cars on the Lost Highway. It was about Real Life and the need to Make a Memory. But SoCal can also be Brokenpromiseland with loads of Bad Medicine. It can be especially difficult to Keep the Faith when The Hardest Part Is the Night and you are just looking for Something for the Pain.

Anyway, it was Saturday and my best friend and I were going to get all dressed up. Then go into Hollyweird for One Wild Night. She had been adamant I'll Be There for You by nine. Now I am not certain if she Misunderstood me about the plan or decided to Lie to Me, but she never showed up that night. But then again best friends can Always be a real Thorn in My Side. If she thought I would call it a night and cry into my beer, She Don't Know Me. Because after thirteen years in a horrible marriage, I had long ago decided that I'll Sleep When I'm Dead. I was determined that I was going to be Happy Now.

So I got all dolled up and drove into Hollyweird all on my own. I parked the car on a side street and decided to go into the bar that was out favorite. It was the hang out place for many of the old eighties 'hair band' types, which was just up my alley. It helped that the Bounce(r) remembered me from our previous visits so it was easy enough to get in.

I walked over to the bar to order my first drink of the night. I had to Shout to be heard over the music of course when I ordered a glass of wine. He asked what kind and I replied What Do You Got? I had just settled on a nice blush when I noticed the crowd growing in the corner. I asked who it was, knowing that it must be some old has-been holding court. He just shrugged and replied that was Superman Tonight and he was definitely not faster than a speeding Bullet. I spewed my wine all over my dress I laughed so hard at that one but decided to get closer and check out the action anyway.

I still don't know how I managed to rank an invite to the VIP table. I mean at my age I could hardly compete with all the size zero twenty-some things that everyone Wanted Dead or Alive When We Were Beautiful. But somehow or the other I did end up as part of that illustrious group. What's more when the dust settled at the end of the night, I was the one that he whispered We Gotta Get out of This Place to. Now I was definitely not Burning for Love or on the Edge of a Broken Heart; after all This Ain't a Love Song. But what the hell, right?

After the valet brought his car around, we drove off into the Hollywood hills just above Sunset strip. Between the wine and the situation, I was not really paying attention to where we were going. Until we drove up this circular drive way to this palace. I thought Welcome to Wherever You Are. He turned to me and said This Is Our House.

We went inside and he shushed me as we snuck into a dark studio at the back of the place. He walked over to the bar and made himself another drink; not that he needed it as drunk as he was. He did not bother offering me one as he grabbed the bottle and collapsed onto the leather couch against one wall. He unzipped his equally leather pants and shoved them down revealing a limp cock that reviled the smallest I have ever seen. He took a long swig off the bottle and said Lay Your Hands on Me.

Now I was fast sobering up but figured it's not Everyday you have the chance to fuck a has-been rock star. I walked over and began to give him a hand job. He laid his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. Honestly, I was getting nowhere fast so I decided to try using my mouth instead. I got on my knees in front of him. I was determined to use my lips, tongue and mouth Till We Ain't Strangers Anymore. And I did. I gave it my best shot for a good fifteen minutes, sucking, slurping and licking his limp cock for all it was worth. Until I heard the snores. I thought Say It Isn't So.

Well, what's a girl to do? I gathered my dignity and my purse. I looked at his drunken ass and thought about pulling his pants up...just in case someone discovered him that way. But with the sun just coming up, what's the point? Instead I figured Never Say Goodbye and just said Have a Nice Day. I Runaway with a side order of Whole Lot of Leavin'. I made my way out of the house and down the side of the Hollywood Hills carrying my high heels and my purse under one arm.

When my girlfriend finally called me later that day, I reamed her a new one and told her the story. Of course, she did not believe me (and maybe you don't either?). All I can say is sometimes we do crazy things just Because We Can. We Weren't Born to Follow all the rules in life or we end up Only Lonely and never Learn to Love. These Days I Believe that Love's the Only Rule worth living by. I have been In and Out of Love but I can honestly say to him... You Give Love a Bad Name.