Intro: (sorry but it's kinda short) please vote and comment if you like and want me to keep going. i will keep going no matter what but it's nice to know what people think :)
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"You're such a dirty little rock star."
That's what she told me, a dirty little smirk on her face. Her lips were glossy red, the kind of lips that are filled with lies. Her face was covered in heavy makeup: her eyelids dark purple, her obviously fake eyelashes half an inch long. Her hair was bleached blonde and cropped short, and she wore a purple and black lace corset number that would have given her father a heart attack.
She was tonight's... entertainment.
She had been following the band around for quite some time, as people tend to do. I had seen her in the audience tonight and figured we could have some fun with her. "We" being me and the band, of course: Hanzel (the drummer), Dwight (the keyboardist), Tripp (the guitarist), Danny (the bassist), and yours truly, Brian Skry. I'm the front man.
So I took this girl- Candie, she said her name was- backstage after the show, where the rest of the band was eagerly awaiting my return but trying to look nonchalant. Tripp was perched on an end table, fidgeting with the ring on his left middle finger, his eyes darting around the room uncomfortably (but this was his normal behavior). Hanzel and Danny were sitting on the filthy old couch, smoking who knows what and sharing a bottle of vodka. Dwight was stuffing his face with pizza, as if he couldn't care less, which of course wasn't true. He was just the best liar.
After the initial introductions, however, nobody wasted any time. Odd pieces of clothing began to litter the cheap carpet as Candie was passed around like a bag of chips. Treated like one as well. Not that she minded at all. In fact, she couldn't be happier.
She was fucking rock stars now.
