Misty Mountain Hop

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  Jimmy pulled Vicky back into the room and sat her on the bed. She wondered desperately what he had planned. He threw off his leather jacket, white scarf, and sunglasses, then pulled Vicky off the bed and kissed her again, only for longer and with a deep passion.

  He pushed her away and took off his shirt, discarding it on the ground. He closed the door to the balcony and pulled the drapes over it, then went over and sat on the bed.

  Vicky had no clue what to do, until Jimmy gave a very drunken command. "Role-play, you're a fourteen year old school girl." Vicky screwed up her face at his desire.

  "What?" she asked. "How---?"

  "You know what, never mind," Jimmy spoke hurriedly. "Get over here."

  Vicky took a step forward and he grabbed her hand, pulling her to his side. He began kissing her neck again, then stopped and whispered, "Lighten up, want a joint?"

  "No, no Jimmy.... I don't do drugs anymore... You're a mess."

  "You're a mess!" he slurred and flopped down on the bed, passed-out. Vicky sighed. If he weren't so self-destructive, he'd be such a wonderful man, she though. She glanced down at him, having no clue what to do. 

  Shrugging, she sighed and pulled Jimmy's dead weight up to the pillow, then pulled the covers out from under him with much difficulty and covered him up.

  Then she turned off the light and got into bed next to him. Her breathing was shallow and she felt like crying. She didn't know why, but she felt like she had just been horribly violated. Again. Jimmy was a strange, kinky man, and she'd really have to change herself to meet his levels.

                                                                  ♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪♫♪

  The next day Vicky woke up to the sound of knocking on the door. Someone outside was calling "Jimmy Page? Jimmy?". Jimmy's hand was around her hips, and she threw his arm back to him. He was still unconscious and oblivious to everything, so she threw the covers from her body and walked to the door. She knew she looked bad, groggy, but opened it anyway. It was Peter.

  "Did you know it took me 16 rooms to find you-- who're you?" he asked, suddenly taking notice of Vicky. Then he waved away his comment and said, "Never mind that-- is Jimmy Page in there?" 

  "Yeah, yeah, come in. He's sleeping." Peter walked in without another invitation. Jimmy was flopped on his stomach in bed, the covers falling off the side he slept on. Peter groaned and threw the covers from Jimmy's shirtless body, then tried to push him over, to no success. 

  "Jimmy, get your fucking arse out of bed, we have a conference to attend. You can sleep when you get back. JIM!" Peter was losing patience. He threw his arms up and stalked over to Vicky. "Get him up and ready within ten minutes, then send him to room 402-- Robert's there," he growled, then left in a rush. 

  Vicky shivered, a bit scared at Peter's anger, then crept up onto the bed. Jimmy groaned. Vicky thought he looked innocent, past his sprawled position and slight snoring. 

  "Jimmy," she whispered. Nothing happened. She clenched her teeth and prepared to roll him out of bed. "Wake up!" she shouted. Still nothing happened. She sighed and began to beat Jimmy with  a pillow until feathers went flying. 

  Jimmy lifted his head groggily off his pillow and opened one eye. As soon as he saw Vicky, he reached a hand out and touched her wrist, then went back to sleep.

  "Oh, no you don't," Vicky responded. She grabbed Jimmy's elbow and tugged and tugged until he was about to fall off the edge. He jerked awake and with a snore, looked up at Vicky. "Get your ass out of bed."

  "What?" Jimmy mumbled groggily.

  "Peter wants you ready in 10 minutes."

  Jimmy was up now, his eyes searching around the room for something. He hopped out of bed and stumbled against the wall, catching himself before he fell on his face. He stood back up and did it again. Vicky sighed and helped him up and over to the bathroom.

  "Do you have clothes?" Vicky asked. Jimmy told her that they were all with Robert and that there were enough for her to wear. She remembered room 402 and told Jimmy she'd be back with clothes. He agreed and she left, leaving the door unlocked.

  She shuffled down the halls, looking for room 402. 400..... 400A.... 520..... 403.... How do they organize the doors? 402, yes!

  She knocked and wondered if the people inside heard it over the commotion that seeped through the door. But the door opened to John Paul and Vicky walked in quickly, despite John's protests.

  It was a suite holding every band member, their groupies, their managers, their equipment, and a clothing rack like the one used during the concert at the Civic Center when Vicky had gone backstage.

  She greeted everyone and made straight for the rack where she pulled off a whole outfit for Jimmy. Then she walked up to Robert and asked him politely what she was going to do for clothes. He replied softly, "We'll take you with us, leave you at the mall with some money, and Richard can take you home, darling."

  Vicky thanked him and left, finding her way back to her room easily. Jimmy was still in the shower, so she closed the room door and knocked on the door to the bathroom.

  A muffled, "Vick?" echoed back, and Vicky agreed. "Come in," Jimmy told her over the patter of the shower.

  Vicky set the clothes on the long counter and checked her homely reflection in the mirror. The shower curtain opened suddenly. Vicky's eyes bulged as Jimmy appeared in the mirror, naked. She closed her eyes and turned to face him.

  "Jimmy, put on some clothes!" she almost cried.

  "Why should I?" he laughed. "You can open your eyes.... nothing shameful to see."

  Vicky resisted. "I'm.... I'm going to the room where all the other guys are hanging, okay? Just meet us in room 402."

  Before Jimmy could protest, Vicky left without a glance in the mirror. Her heartbeat caught in her throat, and she hurried toward room 402, where she proceeded to pant and ignore the guys' questions about why she looked scared. Jimmy was crazy.

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