Lick and a Promise-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie (Rock Star Series Book 1)

  Lick and a Promise-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie

  Lisa V. Proulx

  Writing as Veronica Moreau

  As told by Poppy Bleu

  FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are products of the author’s imagination and are in no way real. Any resemblance to real events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Lick and a Promise-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie

  Copyright © 2013 Veronica Moreau

  Cover Design by Ranae Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  LICK AND A PROMISE-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie

  During the era of Classic Rock, Poppy Bishop was a teenage runaway. At 18, she was in bed with the lead guitarist of one of the biggest bands in rock history. She went on to become Poppy Bleu, a “famous” groupie who bedded rock stars, their wives (and girlfriends) and became a junkie by the time she was 21. However, she never forgot her first rock star…and he never forgot her.

  For over 20 years, Poppy Bleu was known in the rock and roll world as the best backstage lay and liked, loved and hated by some of the world’s biggest rock stars. Her story is one of sex, drugs, and rock and roll and how she went from groupie to junkie to author and became the love of a lead guitarist’s life who saved her from a life of ruin.

  LICK AND A PROMISE is Book One in the Rock Star Series

  LICK AND A PROMISE-Diary of a Rock Star Groupie

  The diary of a rock star groupie and the rock gods she loved, lost and married and the one who wouldn’t let her get away

  This book is part fiction, part non-fiction and a little touch of fantasy. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out what’s real and what’s not.

  All the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

  Book One in the Rock Star Series

  For Peggy

  “At night, rock stars are sexy and bigger than life…in the morning…they are just filthy, disgusting men who don’t even remember your name.”

  Chapters

  Two Sluts and a Bag of Weed

  Sold My Soul for Rock and Roll

  Twosomes, Threesomes, Foursomes

  Backstage Pass

  Star Fucker

  The Wife and the Brown Butter Cloud

  Bonnie and Clyde and the Mormons

  California Dreamin’

  A Belly Dancer in a Room Full of Rock Stars

  That Rock Star

  Coke is a Joke and I Can’t Wait for the Next Line

  Come Next Tuesday

  Rock Of Love

  Backstage Boogie

  Unchained but Still a Prisoner

  No More, No More, No Way

  What It Takes

  Hitting Rock Bottom is Hard on Your Ass

  A Little Drop Of Poison Can Be Good For You

  The Clowns are in Charge of the Circus

  Doors Start A Lockin’, Voices Come a Knockin’

  My Rock Star

  Introduction

  The expensive leather couch was cool and comforting under my 18-year-old skin. It had just the right amount of give as he pressed me deep into the soft cushion. It must have cost thousands, I thought as he kissed me.

  This rock star god was no longer in my dreams or on my bedroom wall but he had become a reality and that reality was on top of me fucking me into oblivion.

  Arching his back, he held me down by my shoulders, grinding his hips into mine. His skin, like muscled velvet, oozed sweat onto my barely boobed top half but all I could think about was his wife.

  “Is she coming home soon?” Dumb question from a dumb kid.

  “Who…?” he grunted.

  “Her, you know, your wife.”

  Still pumping away, he answered, each word in tune with every thrust, “Oh, not till late“, he grinned. “Out spending my money. She’ll be gone for hours.”

  I looked around as he fucked me. Caught up in the fact that I was in his house, their house, the smell of the nouvre riche décor intoxicated me and as I came, I felt him explode as well.

  However, it was not the only explosion in the room.

  “What the fuck?!?!” came the shrill voice of the woman in the doorway whom I recognized from the rock magazines.

  He jumped off me and zipped up his jeans.

  “What are you doing in my house?” she screamed.

  “Your husband!” I arrogantly shot back.

  I scrambled to my feet and tugged at my bell-bottoms, which clung to my ankles like dead weight. I couldn’t get them up fast enough as he shuffled me out the back door.

  I heard the door slam behind me as I made my way down the cobblestone pathway.

  I looked back up at the house. The Italian villa was beautiful but modest and as I ran past the garage, I looked over to see a Jeep, a black Porsche and a Harley Davidson screaming out to me how wealthy a rock star he was.

  I made my way to the driveway and heard his wife screaming. “That is the third fucking groupie I caught you with this month. When does it ever end?”

  I thought to myself…never Baby and I wouldn’t want it any other way!

  Two Sluts and a Bag of Weed

  I don’t know when my fascination with rock stars began but I think it had to do with my friend Peggy.

  I was a dorky kid who listened to Donny Osmond and dreamed of being a schoolteacher one day.

  Peggy was a worldly teenager who drank, smoke, did drugs, ran away from home, got brought back by the police, had a killer body and walked around the yard in a white two-piece string bikini. She was my hero.

  She moved in across the street from me when she was in junior high and I thought she was the strangest person I had ever met.

  She had a real deep voice and sounded like a worn out record and I could not for the life of me believe that she was not an old woman hidden under that white bikini.

  We became fast friends and she turned me on to rock bands, getting high and skipping school. My parents were not pleased.

  Her bedroom wall was plastered with posters of men, strange looking men with guitars that did not resemble any Osmond brother I had ever seen.

  These were real men and from the first moment I laid eyes on them, I knew I wanted one.

  I became infatuated with the long hair, tattoos and piercings that the rock gods had and I didn’t really look at them as men. They were fantasies pure and simple and they were actually dripping with every ounce of awesomeness I could imagine.

  She invited me to my first rock concert and I told my parents that we were going roller skating with her older sister. However, in reality, we were going to see one of the biggest rock bands in history with Peggy’s boyfriend Dave and his buddy Mark.

  The concert hall was an hour away and as I sat in the back seat with this stranger, I got a whiff of the pot that was going around and as I took a toke, I got more and more excited about attending my first concert.

  The lines at the hall ran all around the side of the building and the air was filled with anticipation, sex and marijuana.

  Waiting in line, I took it all in and turned to hear a squeaky noise in the parking lot. A guy was having sex with his girlfriend in the back of his old pickup truck while a crowd gathered around them cheering them on.

  The man in front of me pulled up his pant leg and revealed a small pistol in his crew sock. “I’ve com
e prepared for this concert,” he said to his friend next to him.

  It was 1979.

  Inside the arena, the crowd was loud, wild and ready to rock and roll. A bong passed by us several times and we all took a hit. I was still flying from the car ride there but this was good stuff and I wanted more.

  A beach ball flew by overhead, Dave bopped it once, and it made its way down the aisle to the floor near the stage. We had floor seats and the stage was only a few feet away. This was it. I was actually going to see my rock stars, my teenage dreamboats, up close and personal.

  As the opening band finished and the lights dimmed, a hush fell over the crowd. I could hear the slight hum of the upcoming murmur that was about to be deafening.

  As the band made their way to the stage, the arena erupted in a fury of pink lighting and smoke and I stood mesmerized as the crowd jumped to their feet.

  I was fixated on the lead guitarist as he rocked back and forth creating a rhythm with his body and his instrument. As I watched him play guitar, I imagined what his fingers could do and I wished I was the one he was doing it to.

  As he jammed on stage in his black leather pants, I felt a slight wetness in mine and like an addict, I was hooked. I wanted more.

  After the concert, we all four went back to the car. Dave and Peggy were in the front seat making out and Mark, in the backseat, just stared at me. I was a virgin but after the concert I felt like I had been violated in the most shockingly, wonderful way and I wanted to know the feeling of having sex.

  He leaned into me and kissed me and I imagined he was my rock star as he slid his hand down between my legs. The wetness was already there and like a dummy, he thought it was because of him and I let him think it.

  He smelled like beer and Prell shampoo but I didn’t care. He had a cock and I wanted to see it, feel it, taste it and eventually fuck it.

  As he entered me, I could see Dave and Peggy in the front seat in a reclining position and I assumed they were doing the same thing.

  The pain was quick but intense and he wiggled around realizing that it was my first time. He didn’t seem too worried about making it romantic or anything like that. But hey, what all could you do in the back seat of a Chevy?

  I could hear Jimi Hendrix singing “Little Bird” on the radio.

  It lasted about 10 minutes and when he was through, he got up, opened the door and threw up. I didn’t take it personally considering he drank a lot of beer and I guess the motion of the ocean made him sick.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, wiping his mouth. “That wasn’t about you or anything. I had too much to…” and the chunks began to hurl again.

  From that moment on, Peggy and I were inseparable. I began getting in trouble for being away from home so much and my father hit the roof when he caught us behind her house smoking pot.

  He told me I couldn’t see her anymore but when he was at work, I snuck over to be with her and listen to records.

  It was the summer of 1980 and we began going to outdoor rock concerts. After the initial shock of the pot incident, my father eased up and let me see her again and we started hanging out more and more.

  At one show, she said she knew the roadie who would let us backstage to meet the band. They were a local groups of guys who were getting a following and the lead singer was one of the sexiest guys I had ever seen.

  Since the night with what’s his name at the concert, I had been parking with some local boys at the sneak and peek, the lover’s lane of the area. I would usually tease them a bit and sometimes I’d let them go all the way.

  With each kiss and five minute fuck, I imagined they were rock stars and I was letting them have their way with me. Some had bad breath and acne but I would let my imagination run wild.

  In my fantasy, their long hair flowed down my naked body as their tattoos danced their way onto my skin. Their long, lean fingers strummed my inner thighs like a lead guitar and I came again and again in their arms.

  In reality, I barely had time to unbutton my jeans.

  What did they care? They were horny guys getting a piece of ass and I was fucking a rock star. I used them and they used me, but we were both getting our share of the goods.

  The open field was full of people and the wave of fans crowded the front of the stage. Peggy and I were pushed up against the black, hard area until I thought we would be crushed.

  Her roadie friend, Doogie, saw us and pulled us to safety in the nick of time.

  He escorted us back stage and told us to wait. He then led us into a closed off area and pulled the curtain shut behind him.

  “So,” he said, in a slightly fake sounding British accent, “you want to meet the band do you?”

  He didn’t act as if he knew Peggy very well. She said, “Yeah man you promised me we could meet them for a bag of weed, remember?”

  She pulled out a baggie full of the green stuff and handed him the loot.

  He took it and stuffed it down into the pocket of his jeans.

  He looked around, then back to us, and unzipped his Levis. I looked at her and she at me and I said, “What’s this dude?”

  “Well,” he sneered, “in the music biz, we call it the meet and greet but in our language it’s called greet the meat.”

  He was an older dude and up until now I had only seen teenage cock and to be honest, I was curious as to what an “ol’ man’s” penis looked like.

  His jeans unzipped and he whipped out this monster of a cock that was surrounded by a forest of thick black hair.

  It was already hard and he shook it a little and said, “Well, do you want to meet the band or not?”

  Peggy got down on her knees and with the experience of an inexperienced novice, reluctantly greeted his meat. I watched as she sucked and licked on the poor thing like it was a lollipop and I kept thinking, hell I could do better than that.

  I had never given a man oral sex but somehow I knew from instinct that she was doing it all wrong.

  After a few minutes, he pushed her off his man muscle and he looked at me. “Your turn.”

  She got up, wiped her mouth and went outside the curtain. I bent down and looked up at him. I didn’t want him, I didn’t love him and I sure as hell didn’t like him. However, I knew that the only way I was going to meet a rock star, in the flesh, was to put his flesh into my mouth.

  I slowly took his shaft in my hand and with my tongue slowly made my way up one side then down the other. With my breath, I blew on his damp cock and I listened to him as he shuddered. I gently cupped his balls in my hand and with my tongue and full thick lips made my way up and down his cock.

  After a few minutes, he came and fell backward up against an amplifier. The crowd out front cheering as though they had been our audience.

  “My God love! Who taught you to suck a cock like that?”

  I stood up and wiped my mouth as I swallowed the last bit of his roadie love juice.

  “That was the best fucking blow job I have ever had!”

  “Doogie, they’re ready for you,” came a voice from behind the stage. He zipped up his pants and looked at me. “You and your friend stay back here and when the guys get off stage, be ready for them.”

  I didn’t know what that meant exactly but I had an idea.

  Peggy and I watched from back stage as the band played. The lead singer was even more gorgeous in person and when they came off stage, his roadie approached him as Doogie pointed to me. The singer nodded and came up to me and put his arm around me as Peggy went off somewhere with the drummer.

  I could feel his wet underarm on my shoulder and he smelled like sweat but I could tell by the bulge in his leather pants that he wanted to smell like sex too. He took me back to his motel room where he asked me to prove that the roadie was right and that I could give the best blowjob a man ever had.

  The next morning, he was gone but there was a note on the bedside table.

  “The Englishman was right…”

  The band went on to be one the bigges
t bands in rock history but I never forgot how I gave two men in one day the best blowjobs they ever had.

  I wonder if they remembered.

  Sold My Soul for Rock and Roll

  After getting into it with my parents again, I decided to kick mud and leave home. I was sick of school, and tired of the games and the restraints of everyday living at home.

  Peggy was still a part of my life and she’d been out of school for a year but there was no diploma in her hand either. Her mother shuffled one man after another into her bed and probably didn’t even notice when Peggy took off and she and I hit the highway.

  We came from a small Eastern town and we had looked around at the women there and made a vow to never look or dress like them. I used to say that they were all blue polyester and I was black velvet.

  I looked older than I was and I never let on to my real age. Men and over aged boys never knew that each time they got me in the back seat, they were breaking every law in the book.

  I didn’t fuck all the drivers that gave us rides, some of them were women and one was a grandmother who gave us a lecture and a stern talking to about the dangers of young girls hitchhiking.

  Yes, yes, I thought to myself, more rules from an adult and this one wasn’t even related to me! But I listened and then looked at Peggy who had a finger in her throat pretending to throw up.

  We had no idea which direction we were headed but we ended up in New England.

  I had an aunt who lived in Framingham, Massachusetts and the driver told us we were about an hour away. I asked him if he would take us all the way and he resisted giving me some shit about having to get home to his wife. He had been on a long business trip, was tired and basically wanted us out of his car.