Monthly Archive

“Hi, Billy…”

I’m your biggest fan.

Of course, you hear that all the time…

But, really… I am.

Remember the Limelight?

Yes, that’s the one…  the Manhattan nightclub that was a converted Cathedral.  All the secret alcoves, the church pews and the huge dance floor one-story down where the sanctuary used to be.

It’s closed now… but… I met you there.

The line of black leather, exposed skin and rosary beads with over-sized crosses dripping down chests was halfway around the block that night. But that certainly didn’t stop me from heading straight to the Bouncer with the guest list.  I could feel the hundreds of eyes boring holes into the back of my head questioning who is that?  Are they going to let her in?

I told him my name, that Bouncer at the front door…  indicating that So and So from Chrysalis Records should have called with an RSVP.  So and So’s name was true, but the rest was all bullshit, of course.

Bouncer checked his list, saying my name wasn’t on it… that apparently So and So must have forgotten to call.

My indignation rose and magically the red velvet rope was released and my friend and I were ushered into the most tenebrous chambered hallway I’d ever seen.  The place except for the pulsating dance floor,  was illuminated only by candlelight, reminiscent of more serene, prayerful times.

You just finished your set with Rebel Yell and were departing the stage as we entered the club.  A large crowd of beautiful men and women shadowed your exit as we watched from our perch at the rail above.

You walked up the steps and disappeared.  Then suddenly, you were there… between the Gothic arches in the hallway to our left.

Tall men, muscles straining their skin-tight shirts leaned forward and opened the velvet rope to allow you and your entourage to pass.  Not stopping to question my impulse… I melded into the group walking upstairs to the party suite.

My heart was pounding uncontrollably … did I actually just sneak into Billy Idol’s private party?

Groupie…

Yes… 

HIS.

You had a girlfriend with arms encompassed in tattoos, unheard of in the 1980′s and everyone thought… how odd, but it was accepted because you are from England and things are done differently across the ocean.

So…  there we were.

Like a stalker, I tracked you from across the room.  Funny how we both inhaled all those fat white lines that always seemed to be appearing in front of us.

Mirror images/ You and Me.

My lacy white ‘wedding’ dress and fire red ankle boots did nothing to protect me from

flying away

that night.

You spotted me then.

My breath caught in my throat as our eyes linked like chains.  I couldn’t speak.  I gasped for air.

You came to me from across that cavernous room as your girlfriend stood by the piano, singing for the crowd.

Lifting my chin and beckoning me with your eyes,  I rose up and off the sofa and dissolved into a molecule of myself against your chest.   Taking my hand and leading me through a carved doorway, past a watchful bouncer and down the shadowy hall, you pulled me into an obscure alcove.

No words were spoken, our lips were urgent and hot against the other.  You captured both my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head, then deliciously let your other roam down to my throat.

I absorbed the pressure of your groin as it pressed into me and I felt your craving as you thickened and hardened against my thighs.

I was consumed in passion as you dropped your head to my neck and nibbled, ever so slightly.  My hips bucked involuntarily and you accepted them greedily, gyrating me into delirium as your hand deserted my neck to grasp my waist and pull me into you.

You released my wrists then, slowly gliding your hand down my arm, through my hair, over my breasts and between my legs.  The rush of air that escaped my lungs was a hungry whisper across the Darkness.

Wanton fingers found my core and glided smoothly in, the wetness welcoming you without hesitation as the ambrosial scent of need permeated the space.

Your lips moved furtively down my body from my neck to my breasts.  The silky lace of my dress did little to shield me from your lusty bites and in your teasing mouth, my nipples ached to be free of the constraining cloth between my skin and yours.

From under half closed lids,  I watched as you lifted your head and stepped back, abandoning me completely.  That famously beautiful, half sneer on your face pulling at my sanity.

Reaching for your belt and undoing your buckle, slowly almost maliciously… you made me wait for you, never removing your eyes from mine.

Locked in by your all-consuming gaze, the room receded into nothing… then in an instant… your forearm was across my collarbone, grinding my shoulders into the wall.

You entered me with the lascivious greed of a ravenous animal and I took you in hungrily as the aphrodisiac of our Forbidden tryst exploded around us.

The intrusive calling of your name pulled us from the abyss of our debauchery and we slowly came to our senses.

Surrendering our union and composing ourselves, we stepped from the shadows and greeted the intruder.

2 years later, we met in Pennsylvania… of all places.  You were presenting a concert and I manipulated my way backstage.

When I was finally able to make my way through your throng of devotees,  I reminded you of the party at the Limelight.

Releasing that star-struck fan’s pen and paper, you turned and gave me your full attention.  Our eyes held for a moment… then remembering you stroked the flesh on my neck, bent down to kiss me and sensuously whispered,  “How are you?”

I was never able to answer that question as you were pulled away from me

… yet again …

I stood and watched as you were guided up onto the stage and from somewhere in the waiting crowd beyond, I heard the call… “Hey! Billy Idol’s here! … it’s HAPPY HOUR!”

Rebel Yell

1 1/2 ounces Bourbon

1/2 ounce Triple Sec

1 ounce Lime Juice

Pour contents into a cocktail shaker filled with ice.  Shake.  Strain into a shot glass.

Enjoy!

This is the video version

This is the Billy from the story version <wink>