The Groupie

“Dad. Dad!”

“What? I’m asleep.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I was.”

“Jess needs you.”

“Jess?”

“Yeah, Jess.”

“She’s not here.”

“No, that’s the problem.”

“Right.”

“I need you to give her a lift.”

“You were getting a taxi back from the gig.”

“Right, yeah, and we did, but she didn’t come with us, and now she’s stuck there, and she’s got no money, and no lift, and you said to wake you if I needed help.”

“But you don’t. You’re home.”

“But Jess isn’t. Please Dad. Really, please.”

“Ok. Don’t disturb your mother anymore. I hope I don’t need to go far to find her because I’m staying in my pajamas.”

“You’re the best,” his daughter pecked him on the cheek and danced up the stairs.

He immediately regretted not getting dressed properly. It wasn’t that he was cold or embarrassed; it was a little more complicated than that.

The way he felt about Jess was how the Dad in American Beauty felt about the beauty. The friend of his daughters. He fancied her madly.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. Yes, she was nineteen now, no, he hadn’t ever put moves on her, but yes, he had cum thinking about her. He had cum more than once picturing her hot, tight body. He had blown his load on a number of occasions, wishing he could dig his fingers into her pert ass or reach down her top for a handful of teenage tit.

He had wanked off dozens of times fantasising that she was with him in the shower, slipping down his dad bod with her hot bod and sucking lovingly on the end of his dick as water washed over her face. She would look up at him and press her full kissable lips around his bell end and sigh sweetly as he would climax into her mouth, because of her mouth.

Or he would picture taking a handful of her hippy chick coloured hair and fuck her mouth with no mercy. It depended on what mood he was in.

Or just look at her as she jerked him off. He could look into her eyes all day. That face. Oh fuck those Emo eyes melted him every time.

Whether he was thinking about that or about fingering her in the ass against the shower wall, with her pulling the curtain down, trying to stay up and survive being so turned on, it always happened in the shower. Whatever the nasty thoughts were, he saved them for the safety of the shower. Like the man in the movie. He would always rub his uncut cork up and down in the shower and let the swirling water carry his seed away.

What a waste he’d feel, it could have been in her stomach or womb, or on her face, or in her hair.

He had a deep affection and longing for her hair.

When he got there, he regretted the pygamas even more. It seemed Jess had sent him a text. He’d never had her number before, and he really wanted to see what her picture was on WhatsApp, but he felt the compulsion of being the ‘grown-up in the room’ to make him just get on with it. He could stare at the picture later.

He regretted the pygamas because her text said she would be in a white van around the back of the venue. He would have to park on the street and go looking for her. What the hell was she up to!

That was soon obvious.

The white van was rocking back and forth in a sway that meant two things: crappy suspension and hard fucking. Three guys stood smoking and chatting outside the van. One was actually leaning against it. Jess was nowhere to be seen. But he could hear her. She was a loud lover.

“Hey man, what’s up?” One of the guys standing there said. “You need a light?”

“Nah, shit man, that’s her Dad!” The other one, standing but not leaning on the van, said.

“What, no, you her Dad?”

“No,” he said, folding his arms and looking meanly at the fuck ups in classic rock n’ roll jeans and leather.

“Step-dad, stupid. She gotta be a step-dad kind of a girl.”

“I’m no relation at all.”

“You don’t look like a taxi driver.”

“I know! Fuck man! He’s her sugar daddy! Sorry, guy, but she was asking for it. I mean, like, she actually asked for it. Not in a creepy way. She said, ‘Can I suck your dick, Steve? I love the way you play guitar.’ And so I had no option but to be polite and let her, you know. You know how it is.”

“You all fucked her?”

“No, Brady is still fucking her.” The van was picking up speed on its wheels but not going anywhere except left and right, bounce bounce. “And I didn’t fuck her. Just a blowie, yeah. I mean, I didn’t have sex with her.”

“I didn’t either. I fucked her in the ass. So not really sex, you know. I wouldn’t count that, would you?”

“I didn’t touch her at all,” the man leaning on the van said as he swayed with its primal movements, as if the vehicle itself were alive.

“Shit, James, you’re making me feel seasick watching you wobble back and forth like that. How can you do it?”

“I like the rhythm. I’m going to write a song with it and sample her screams of orgasm, I think.”

“He’s the drummer, see, loves the groove. No better groove than the groove of your cock in the groove ha!”

“You guys disgust me,” he said, feeling both unimpressed by the rock bands’ behaviour while also deeply jealous of it. This was the story of his life. Why was he always so nice? He would have had a lot more fun if he’d been like these guys.

“Hey! She’s legal, you know! And she wanted it. And we’ll give her a free backstage pass at any of her gigs in the future.”

“Yeah, I bet you will.”

“And her hot friends. What happened to her hot friends?”

He nearly punched the little fucker then.

“And I didn’t fuck her at all,” the drummer repeated.

“Because you’re gay!” the dad said.

“Ha! Got me!”

“I know you guys. I know you’re music. It’s brilliant, but you’re shit people.”

“We could ask her if you could have a go? I’m guessing you’re not getting any ’cause you’re like so uptight. Want a puff? It’s a funny one.”

“No, I don’t. I want to go back to bed.”

“I talked to her the most, though! I may be gay, but I have a big thing for tying women up and whipping them. And it’s not an anti-women thing, I love women. You’re right, sir, these friends of mine suck. Jess, Jess is a lady. These guys see sex and a place to unload when they see a girl like Jess; I see a lady. And she said if we’re passing through here again any time, she’d let me tie her up and whip her. She’s the bomb.”

“You’re weird, dude,” one of the other bandmates said as the screams grew louder from inside the van. They’d been fucking for an age, it seemed. “Whipping?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Send me to the psychiatrist, all I know is that it’s the only straight porn that turns me on, is one with a thick dollop of sadism. Oh, and when a woman’s having her face dick slapped by a bunch of well-endowed guys. But you know that could be more to do with the dicks than the dick slapped woman. Oh shit, where’s my groupie, you cunts! I’m so horny now. Impressed you’ve heard of us, old man. She’ll be done in a wink. Now everyone quiet I want to record her climax.”

And he did, holding his phone to the back doors. The dad sighed and stayed silent like the rest of them. The empty car park echoed to the screams of a young woman in the throes of abandon. Gen Z. Oh, he wished he were young again.

The sex was over, and the men went back to chatting again, but nothing seemed to happen.

“Is she not coming out?”

“I don’t know,” one of the guys said. “Maybe she fell asleep in his arms. All romantic.”

“Fuck that you tramps,” James the gay sadist said, “I’m not sleeping in the passenger seat again while you foldle her all night and probably each other and deny you’ve got any homolust in you even though you’ve been rubbing your dick against the inside of her mouth and each other all night. No way. She’s going home.

“Jess! Jess!” James said, hammering at the van door, making it shake again. “You’re Dad’s here.”

“Fuck off!” Jess said from the inside.

“I’m not her Dad.”

“You never did tell us who you were, did you?”

“Her best friend’s Dad.”

“Oh shit yeah. She was the one with the huge fuc…” Said one of the guys who wasn’t James and was sharply kicked by the other one that wasn’t James. The Dad knew their names from reading their Spotify info, but couldn’t have told you who was who. Brady was in the van. He’d got that. And James, of course.

“Jess! There’ll be a fight out here if you don’t come now,” James said in a singsong voice, ramping up the camp to calm the possible situation. But then ruining it with the next comment. “My band mates are saying lewd things about your best friend, and your best friend’s Dad is here. It can’t go well. He looks mad.”

“Shit, sorry!” Jess shouted from behind the van door as she was also flinging it open. Or trying to. “Brady man, how’d you open this?” Then, instead of it crashing open as it would have done under Jess’s steam, it simply swung open slowly, and the Dad, Ian Stone, his name, saw all he was to see of Brady that night, the lead singer, a naked foot hanging out of scruffy-looking sheets.

But he was hardly looking at the guys now because here was Jess. She was a mess. Her hair, of three, maybe a dozen colours, was sticking up like the worst bed head and glued to parts of her face from sweat that was still dripping. Her makeup was all over the place. Her kilt wasn’t on the right way around, and so looked odd, and her black shirt was buttoned in a uniquely diagonal way. She could hardly walk properly and was trying to pull on a jacket and a tiny, fluffy rucksack the wrong way around, all while stuffing things into pockets.

She looked fantastic.

And much smaller than he remembered her.

Ian really was in love. Or something. Something he couldn’t understand and probably do nothing about, as always.

Still falling out of the van, Jess said, “Sorry, Mr. Stone. I’m really sorry. It was so good of you to come. I’m so bad. Kels is so good.”

Kelly, his daughter’s name. He didn’t want these hippy shits to know her name, so he didn’t react.

“I’ll just say goodbye.”

Then, hopping about in ripped diamond mesh see-through leggings, she kissed each of the guys outside the van. They were so badly ripped that she started to rip them some more, so they weren’t tripping her up. They hung off her beautifully.

“You want help to have them yanked off you completely?”

“Nah, I’m good, James. Thanks. Next time. Brady! My shoes.”

Huge clumpers came flying out, and one hit her leg.

“Brady, you fucker!”

“Sorry, babe. Kiss me goodnight.”

And she did, but just the one foot that was sticking out. Ian noticed her kiss his toe and then lick from top the bottom. Those feet were filthy. She was filthy. He needed to get to the car. He was getting a hard-on for her. The car and then a shower.

She picked up the huge boots that must have doubled her weight, and with such huge platforms, explained why she looked smaller than he’d seen her recently when she came to get Kelly.

She didn’t bother putting them on and tramped off in front of him as he turned to head for the car. Ian knew he was going to have to say something. This wasn’t right.

But Jess had plenty to say for herself.