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Access All Areasthis story is part of the FanClub (fm:anal sex, 2348 words) [1/2] show all parts

Author: Chrissie Bentley Picture in profile
Added: Jan 27 2014Views / Reads: 3269 / 2571 [79%]Part vote: 9.75 (52 votes)
I want to get a pass for backstage at a local nightclub. And one of the security guards offers to give me one.
 


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I'm going to spare Sharon's blushes and not tell you the name of the band she saw. Suffice to say, they were English, electronic, and they had the most ridiculous haircuts. But the next day as she paraded around her autographed LP sleeve and some similarly decorated 45s too, even those of us who didn't give a hoot for how far away Iran might be (oops. I think I just gave it away, didn't I?) were impressed with her brush with stardom.

It's not like it was easy to get backstage at the Electric Circus. Security guards who might have doubled as Jon Mikl Thor were ranged around the door that led back there, all murmuring into their walkie-talkies as they suspiciously eyed the gaggle of fans who beelined to their station once the house lights came up.

A few of them had passes, and they'd be ushered begrudgingly through the white door. The rest, though... we waited till the goons decided we'd wasted enough time, and then we'd be pointed towards the main exits, and home without a glimpse of our heroes.

So how the hell did Sharon do it?

"It helps to know people," she mysteriously intoned when we asked. Or, "I don't know, I guess I just looked hip enough." Or maybe, as she confided in me in the bathroom a few weeks later, she gave one of the goons a handjob through the pocket of his pants; implied there'd be ...

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