The chick who fucked Mick Jagger

- Mick, will you sing?
- I only do this for real money... or, for love.
  Jagger raised his glass to the cow-eyed thing who was sitting next to the star, looking at him rather stupidly.
- Here's to you!
  He gulped down the pink mixture that the glass held.
- Come on up, let's dangle.
  He grasped the moist hand and made the girl stand up, - long hair and loud lipstick, her white thighs in a mini of a rebellious, and ridiculous, cut.
  A guy rose to stop them, and was held back.
- Do you know who he is? That's Mick Jagger, of the 'Stones'!
- I don't care who he is. This is my girl. She came down with me.
- She's coming up with Mick. It's a free world. Just sit back and enjoy the party. Don't spoil other people's fun.

  The white thighs came blinking up the staircase that led to a narrow, dimly lit, funny smelling corridor that had two rows of doors without plates. The thighs followed Mick through one of the doors. When they came in, he turned the brass knob closing the door.
  The room was quite inconspicuos in itself. It was one of those rooms that one uses now and then for a quick rendition of one's sexual lines. The apartment boasted a bed, a chair, a mirror and a thing under the bed resembling a basin. There was a lamp on the ceiling, apparently out of order, and another one on the wall over the bed.
  The girl walked up the thin-carpeted floor, removing her shoes in the process, one after the other. She unbuttoned her short dress and took it up waist-high, then she sat down on the bed, and with one smooth easy motion she took the tight silk over the head. In so doing she dismantled, completely and thoroughly, the abundance of her hair that had been piled up castle-like and high.
- My, ain't we pretty, - Mick put out the cigarette that he was smoking.
  He came up and began to unbutton his trousers.
  The girl hung the short black silk dress over the chair. She put both hands behind her back, upwards, and unfastened her heavy bra. She had boobs, big, full, but rather adequately firm, the nipples all out for the attack. She lay down on her back, and smiled to him:
- Do ya thing, Mickey, spoil me... No, no, please don't kiss. Just this thing here...
- You been fucked before?
- Are you kidding? Do I look like a Mary with a lamb to you?
- That boy downstairs?
- The stupid prick tried to make me right in the taxi, but the taxi-driver kept looking over his shoulder, and he couldn't, please be tender, will you, - she hurried to add.
  When the bed started rocking, the girl uttered a shrill short syllable, like that of a broken glass.
- You bitch, - Mick told her, - You little liar.
  Her wide-spread, white and pleasant thighs made little uncomfortable movements that never really amounted to anything. The bed was also rolling now. Within seconds, she tried to reach with her right hand down to where he was doing it to her. But he was fast, and the hand was quickly proved wrong, and made to retreat.

  Meanwhile, her boyfriend downstairs was having another drink with a busty red dress, presumably in her late teens, at the same time attempting to give her a feel under the table. To keep the old ball rolling, he was telling her jokes so stale that they had turned fishy and blue. The red dress was laughing uproariously, keeping her round knees jammed tightly and safely together.

  This little stupid prick of his was sure rocking her hard. The girl closed the weeping mouth with her left hand. Her eyes were shining wet and very bright, like two large flower buds suddenly opened in a cornfield. And thus she was overtaken completely by this panting, sweating, famous Mick Jagger of 'The Rolling Stones'.

- 'The Stones' are in Japan.
- What?
- They are playing Tokyo, or some other city. I don't follow them, 'cause I'm not a fan, but let's see, - the editor pressed a button. - Jane please ask our only 'Stones' fan to come over immediately, thank you. Sit down, please, - he told the girl.
  She sat down.
  A young man in his shirt-sleeves came in.
- Stoney, where's Mick these days?
  The young man looked at the girl in some astonishment. He smiled and turned back to the editor:
- The band's in Japan.
- You see, - the editor said. - So unfortunately there's nothing to your story. I'm very...
- When did Mick... oh, when did they leave?
- It's about a week, I guess. It's a hell of a tour.
  She rose, said that she was very sorry, and left the editor's office.
- Who's Miss Universe? - asked the young man when the door had closed on her.
- She came to tell me the story of how she fucked Mick Jagger, but the guy wasn't Mick Jagger, - the editor explained.
- But isn't the stupid cow built!
- That true.
- I wish I was Mick.
- What's stopping you?
- That's an idea.

  The young man just managed to catch up with her when the girl who fucked Mick Jagger was leaving the building.
- Excuse me, miss, but I'm very positive that we could publish your piece, er, on the side, if you're interested, we have a popular Saturday supplement, and I just said to myself, Why not put this fairly exciting story out in that?
  The girl was looking at the young man.
- Yes? And who are you?
- I am editor of the Saturday supplement, - he lied.
- You Stoney, right?
- Oh, no, that was a joke. I'm Benjamin, - he lied again.
  Aren't I getting into the swing of it, he thought to himself. And the stupid cow keeps taking it all.
- We could discuss things, - he told her. - Let's meet some time later in the day and talk everything over. I'm finishing at 5.
- Well, all right, - said the girl. - Are you positive something can pan out?
- Quite positive, - lied the young man, very naturally this time. - You staying at a hotel?
- Yes.
  She gave him the name.
  Shaping up! And what a shape, this one...
- I'll be right there at half past six, - he told her, - that all right with you?
- Yes, it will be all right. Only, I don't have much time 'cause I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and there's still some shopping to do, - she told him.
- Oh, don't worry, it won't take long, - he promised.
  She said, 'G'bye', and walked up the street. It began to rain, and people were opening their umbrellas.

  And it didn't take long. Benjamin fucked her for his popular Saturday supplement, just an hour after they met in the lobby of her cheap hotel. He fucked her hard on a bed that was a sister twin to the bed where 'Mick' did it to her, in a room that could hardly be told from that one. So hard that one of the legs broke, and the bed sank sideways to the floor, and he continued to fuck the girl lying on the floor, and then doggy-style, and finally sitting in his lap...

- Did you milk the cow? - said the editor on the morning after.
- Didn't I, though? I say, Rocky, Mick Jagger IS a stupid prick!
- Why, what happened? You are Stoney, aren't you? The cow's changed your pricky ways into even more prickiness?
- No, I'm Benjamin, that's the proud name I go under in certain circles. She broke the hotel bed.
- She did? Lucky for some. I wonder who paid.
- Certainly not I. Mick did.
- Well, well, well. If you care to know my opinion on all of this Jaggerfuck shit, we ought to 've kept the chick, and we ought to 've printed her story in the 'Humour' column, and it would go big. That's what I think.
- Bathing-suit picture attached.
- Exactly!
- She comes from Llewenndale, - said the younger man lighting a cigarette, - and Llewenndale sounds like a friendly and home-like place to me. And what with her looks, she can always get a second chance in some wonderful Llewenndale sheet. She can make it on the easy, you know, by fucking the local paper guys.
- The four-letter word keeps popping up, - the editor said reproachfully. - Have you a problem?
- Them cow girls are on the fuck. No problem. She will make the print.

  And sure enough, she did.
  The Llewenndale paper sitting on my table bears this formidable caption: 'Local Girl Stones Mick Jagger Out Of His Pants'. The original story is edited quite nicely, but told in the first person, complete with the bathing-suit picture. The girl looks more advanced in years, and sports a different hair-style. And of course it isn't in any of your 'Humour' columns.
  It's sheer front page.


  2012.