(Suzi continues her education. The doorman is a little harder than Dexter.
(And more difficult to get past, too.)
==================================
"Okay, here's the deal," Frank said, as I walked toward the backstage entrance of the OmniTheatre. "You have to get past the doorman and probably at least one roadie before you get a shot at the band."
"Do I handle them like I did Dexter?" I asked.
"Likely not; he was just a geek; these guys are pros, used to dealing with groupies. They're gonna want more than just a feel. And each one you gotta get past is gonna want more... It's sort of a ritual call-and-response thing, really; thousands of empty-headed hot-pantsed sluts just like you have been refining and polishing it since just about the beginning of rock'n'roll."
"Okay, so what do I do?"
"Well, first you give the traditional opening gambit... there's the doorman!"
And there was the doorman, indeed. Standing with his arms folded as he lounged against the doorframe, he was big, muscular and bored out of his tree, I could tell.
"Try to just waltz past him," Frank hissed.
I trotted merrily up the steps, stilettos clicking on the sheet-metal treads, boobs threatening to bounce out at any second. I waved and grinned to the guy, and reached for the door handle, started to open the door, and...
"Not so fast, girlie," he said, grabbing my wrist and yanking my hand away from the door. "And where do you think you're going?"
"Hey -- I'm with the band!" I said.
"Right. Where's yer backstage pass?"
I made a show of searching the very few hiding places that my current costume offered.
Frank said "Don't forget to check to make sure whether you've got it 'round your neck... , " so I reached down between my boobs just in case it was somehow there and I just hadn't noticed. He noticed that, though, and his eyes sort of stuck there as I gave up checking and pouted in my best empty-headed slut fashion and whined cutely "Aw, shucks, I must'a left it home!" and stomped my foot (drawing attention to my Long Legs and Short Skirt). Then I put one finger in my mouth and sulked, sucking on my finger tip and occasionally licking at it with my tonguetip.
"Okay, you're not gonna bluff him. Get closer." Frank advised. I took a step closer. Unlike Dex in the parking lot, this one didn't back off. In fact, he grinned kind of knowingly and renewed his attempt to look down my top, gaze past my tits and check out my pussy, all in one view.
Giving that poor finger a real workout, I looked up at him from under half-lowered eyelids, kind of like Bacall getting ready to tell Bogart to put his lips together and blow, and said, low and sultry -- more a purr than words -- "I could be nice if you'll just look the other way 'till I'm inside..."