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Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies

Page 33

by Pamela Des Barres


  T !, T

  In So Deep

  iss Tina King is persistent. She has called several times, making sure I have the right directions to her house on the other side of town. When I pull up and park in the crunchy snow, Tina is waiting for me on the porch, smiling brightly. She's just a little over five feet tall, with short pixie blonde hair and impish dimples, and she looks like she's about to burst with bliss.

  Tina has inundated me with e-mails about her exploits, and of all the girls I've come across, she is the most effervescent and excited at the prospect of sharing her experiences. "Oh, I just can't believe you're here!" she exclaims, hugging me tightly and ushering me into the small wooden house she shares with her mother, Debbie, and her four-year-old daughter, Amber. Debbie welcomes me with a wide grin. Little Amber has been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, and although she frolics happily with her toys, she doesn't interact much with me.

  Before I arrived in Minneapolis, Tina and I discussed my desire to plunder antique malls and thrift stores to hunt for buried treasure. So the first thing we plan to do on this bitterly cold afternoon is rummage around Goodwill and Salvation Army stores together. While Tina gets ready to go, I notice an eightby-ten of her with Kid Rock hanging over the big television set. Debbie motions me toward her and whispers in my ear. "Tina gave Kid Rock a B-L-O-W-J-O-B," she says proudly, spelling out the letters, then looking over at Amber. "She can't spell, but you can't be too careful." For the first time in years, I am actually speechless. Debbie doesn't seem to notice and pulls out Tina's high school newspaper, The Bluffer, dated November 4, 1988. She points to a small article: "Time Will Tell-Imagine a world famous professor invented a machine that can answer any question about the future. Tina King: Will I ever reign as a groupie queen and be featured on the cover of Rolling Stone?" She then shows me an assignment Tina wrote for English class that describes Richie Sambora's guitar playing: "Magician's fingers produce auras of tone to mesmerize the fans ..." I am struck by how wonderfully OK Debbie is with her daughter's, shall we say, achievements, and I'm filled with admiration for this openminded mama.

  While we gadabout antique shops, I ask Tina how her mother came to be so accepting. "She got divorced when I was fourteen and never remarried. We'd go to concerts and meet rock stars together. I'd take her backstage. We liked the same kind of music, and the same musicians. At first, I'd say, `Hey, guys, this is Debbie.' But if it was a band I hung out with more than once, I'd finally say, `Guys, this is my mom.' They'd say, `Oh, that's really cool.' But since Amber was born, Mom mostly stays home with her."

  Tina's remarkably sunny disposition belies a difficult beginning, as well as laser-focused determination. She already has a master of arts in human development and is close to getting a master's degree in social work. The job she hopes to land is quite unique. "I would like to work at a veterinarian hospital so I could hold a grief and support group for people who've lost a pet or recently found out their pets have a terminal illness. That combines my two big loves of animals and people in one setting."

  Pretty incredible for a girl who says she came from a family that was "dirt poor." "I was four when my parents divorced. My mom married a traveling salesman when I was seven and was gone a lot, so my grandma raised me. I was pretty slick at keeping things hidden from my grandma. I'd sneak off and party. Where I grew up, if you weren't rich, no one paid you any attention, so I didn't get any boyfriends. I was really smart, but I was a stoner. I hung out with potheads but made good grades. Later on, my mom was a single parent on welfare and food stamps. She worked in a bar for $2 an hour and didn't make enough to make ends meet, so we both moved in with my grandparents and uncle. The five of us shared a one-bedroom house. My mom and I grew up as friends. We loved Dokken-all the '80s hair bands, we just loved 'em. They were great showmen. I thought glam rock guys wearing makeup, spandex, and big hair were really sexy. I started followed them around, and knew that between two and four, they were at sound check. So I'd go hang out by the buses. I'd dress sexy and flamboyant, and it always caught their attention. I'd say, `Hey!' and they'd send their tour manager out to get me. A lot of times, security would try to prevent me from going to the bus: `Stay back behind the yellow line. The police tape says do not cross.' But the rock stars would always say, `She's with us."

  We're cruising through the local Goodwill, and Tina holds up a pair of black patent leather Mary Janes. "These will look so cute on Amber," she says delightedly. After checking out with our swag, we stop for a cup of j oe and some rock reminiscing. Her first big crush was Jon Bon Jovi, but she couldn't get near him. "It was like getting through a vault trying to meet the guy," Tina says. "My first sexual experience with a rock star was Tommy Skeoch, the guitarist for Tesla. It was awful, very methodic, no foreplay-he just pulled my clothes down. We were in the very back of his tour bus, and he didn't use a condom, or even kiss me. It lasted ten minutes. It was horrible."

  Not surprisingly, Tina was disappointed and her crush on Tommy was instantly over.

  "Each month, the editor of Metal Edge magazine would ask a bunch of rock stars the same question. This particular question was, `What really worries you about being a rock star?' Tommy's answer was, `All the numerous women I've slept with, without protection.' When I read that, a chill went down my spine. So I wrote him this long letter, and sent it in care of the record label. I ran into him about two months later. I got a backstage pass and was mingling with fans, talking to the other guys in the band. Suddenly, Tommy walked right over to me and said, `I got your letter.' He looked at me like he could see into the very essence of my soul. But I didn't say a word, I just left."

  I ask Tina why she kept going backstage after such a horrible first experience. "It's an addiction. Some people skydive, but I'd be afraid my parachute wouldn't open. Meeting a rock star and engaging in some sort of intimate, sexual act is such a thrill because it makes me feel special. Like I'm among the chosen ones. When I was a baby, my mom rocked me on the front porch, listening to '70s music. So I grew up loving the guys who play that music. It touches my heart. It touches my soul, and I want a piece of that person. I want to take a piece from them and put it into myself. It doesn't get more intertwining than a sexual act. After it happens, I see them on TV or in the magazines, and I think, `I had a piece of that. I was with that person.' My dream has always been to marry a rock star. I never cared what my career would be. I just wanted to be a rock star wife or girlfriend. That's been my goal since I was a child."

  But how would she feel about her rock honey hooking up with the likes of her out on the road? "I understand it goes with the territory. But I'd be the one they'd be with the majority of the time. I don't care about the wealth or being in the limelight. Just having them as my private rock star, to sing to me at three in the morning. Rock stars are a different breed: free-spirited gypsies that march to the beats of their own inner drums. There aren't many musicians in my small town, so I got away to hang with the bands. It was the best vacation ever and an escape from my own shitty life. I heard it in the halls and it was taped to my locker, `You're a slut groupie.' I dealt with that all through high school and it sucked. So when I finally met the band and had the laminate and saw those same bitches who called me a slut, I could show them, `Now look who's the slut, bitches?' They wanted to meet the bands so they'd try to brownnose me, `Oh, Tina! How've you been?' I don't think so. Ha ha ha. Payback's a motherfucker, isn't it? Revenge is sweet medicine. I know that wasn't very nice, but they weren't nice to me either."

  Tina's husband of eleven years wasn't a rock star but was certainly a different breed. "He was a pilot from Norway, and unlike all the guys in my little town-very Norwegian looking, almost white hair, tall, thin, with a dimple in his chin. I was almost twenty-one when I married him, because he was different. But being a groupie was one thing I was not giving up, and he hated it. Anytime a band was coming to our area, he'd stress out for a whole week. My second sexual rock star experience was Bill Leverty, the bass player f
or Firehouse. I gave him a blow job and didn't finish. He said, `Oh, jeez, don't do this to me.' He was ready to get blue balls. I said, `I can't. I'm married. I gotta go. Good-bye!' As I was running off the bus, he yelled, `You've already cheated, you might as well finish!' I felt awful. It's sad to say, but it was still fun. He's hot! I told my husband because I'm an open soul. I cheated on him once more with the guitar player for Survivor. I went back to his hotel room after the show and we swam and had sex. I didn't tell my husband about that one until a week later."

  Tina went to shows and partied with band members, but stayed true until her marriage finally fell apart. "After my divorce, the '80s bands were coming back around, playing small clubs. So the next one was five years ago, Phil Lewis, the singer for L.A. Guns. A lot of groupies call him `Philthy' Lewis, so he gets around. But I think I actually fell in love with him. The first time I gave him a blow job on the bus. The next time we had sex. He's a very good lover, and it wasn't just sleazy sex. He cared about me. The concert was phenomenal. I was front row center, and at the very end of the show, he looked at me and said, `Thanks, Tina,' then bent down on one knee and gave me a big kiss, in front of everybody. I was thinking, `Oh my God, it doesn't get any better! This just isn't going to happen, ever again.' We did things that were different from the other rock stars' sex acts. For example, he met my mom. Then a few months later, he came over to my house and took a shower. I just knew he lived in a fancy area of L.A. and had a mansion and fancy sports cars. I was so embarrassed because the tile had fallen off in part of my bathroom, but I didn't want to say no because he needed a shower. He had met my mom before, so they were chatting, and I called my friend Angie, who was taking me to the show in her yellow Volkswagen. I said, `Somebody else is here and he needs a ride too.' She asked, `Who is he?' and I said, `Phil Lewis: She got there and was all starry-eyed. On the way to the show, we had the sunroof open. It was surreal because we grew up listening to him, and I never thought I'd be having sex with him seventeen years later. Not once, not twice, but four times. After that show, we got on the tour bus and had sex in one of the little bunk beds. It reminded me of the Japanese hotel cubicles I'd seen in movies, but it was actually quite comfy. It was small quarters, but it worked. There was a curtain, so we had privacy. And we weren't getting loud. We were respectful because we were cognizant of everybody else on the bus. Once I spent the weekend with him. I took off work and went to the Super 8. There were three tour buses in the parking lot and I didn't know which one was theirs. So I stayed in my little red Ford Aspire, thinking, `I'll just wait until some rock star gets off the bus.' It was Tracii Guns, the former guitarist for L.A. Guns. He's now with Brides of Destruction. He had seen me numerous times, hanging out with Phil. I said, `Tracii, would you tell Phil to call Tina? This is my room number, 301: I checked into the same hotel, the same floor, too. So Phil came to my room, we took a bath with candles, and it was so romantic. We sat there and talked about personal stuff going on in our lives. He told me he wrote that song `Crazy' about his ex-wife who had mental problems. It's a wonderful song because part of the lyrics go, `Don't call me crazy.' We fooled around in the bathtub, but that didn't go so well, because it's hard for guys have orgasms in bathtubs. At least that's what I've found in my experience. So he put the candles beside the bed on the nightstand. I gave him a blow job and when we were having sex, the tip of the pillowcase touched the candle flame and caught fire. I couldn't think, I couldn't move, but he was really quick-acting. He pounded the pillow on the carpet and the fire finally went out, but there was this huge hole with no carpet at all. I said, `Oh, shit. I'm going to have to pay property damages.' But Phil put the table over the burned part, so I totally got out of that one. A few hours later he asked me to come to his room, and Brent Muscat of Faster Pussycat was there. They were hungry, so we went to Perkins. And that was really cool, because I was out to breakfast with two big popular rock stars. Everyone was staring and a lot people kept coming to the table. I was so nervous, I couldn't eat. It's weird: I could have the sex, because that's second nature, but here I was sitting with two rock stars I had idolized when I was younger and just didn't know what to say. Basically, I listened to them talk and just drank my pop. We went back to the hotel room, and Phil suggested a threesome. I felt a little awkward because I really liked him. I wondered if I should do it because what if he lost respect for me? At the same time, I was excited and thrilled by the idea. So I just went for it, and it was OK. Brent was shy, and that surprised me. He acted like a schoolboy, not quite sure what he was doing. Phil was more aggressive. I gave Brent a blow job, then Phil and I kissed for a while. Brent and I started to have sex, but I stopped so we didn't go all the way. Then Phil and I had sex, and Brent just walked away and did his own thing. They'd been good friends for years, and it didn't seem like it was uncomfortable for them. I don't think it was the first time they'd had a threesome. I even I wondered if they were bisexual. I saw a video camera and worried that he'd set it up to record. I still strongly suspect there's a video out there of us. I'd like to get my hands on it and destroy it-or actually, keep it! The next day, when I told Phil I was leaving, he told me he wanted to talk to me. He said, `I think you're a really special girl and I don't want you to get your heart broken. I can't give you what you need.'"

  Tina continued to hang out with the band whenever they came through town, and finally one night, it seemed Phil had a change of heart. "He said, `Do you want to get together after the show?' But that never happened because at the end of the night, I ended up giving a blow job to Ronnie Munro, the singer of Metal Church. Then Stephen Pearcy's drummer was being flirty, and said, `You're gorgeous. You want to hang out?' So we ended up getting in my minivan and I gave him a blow job too."

  But why was she with two other guys when she could have been with her fave? "I don't know," Tina shrugs. "I wanted something strange and different. I guess I wanted to add more notches to my belt. Hey, I might as well have all of them. I thought it was cool because I got one from each band. Except the one I wanted the most."

  But wasn't she worried that Phil would find out? "No, because I didn't tell those guys my name. I don't think the opening bands would tell the headliners because they compete for the same ladies' attention. It's competitive in that aspect, like a turf thing."

  The next night, Tina invites me to one of her favorite strip mall rock clubs, where we boogaloo to a'70s cover band, shaking our booties like disco fools. She tells me about Amber's father, a local dark-haired musician with whom she had a short romance. Luckily, they remain friendly, and he sees Amber frequently. Afterward we drive around until we find an open IHOP so we can finish our chat. A proud vegetarian, Tina orders a middleof-the-night grilled cheese, while I dig into an obnoxious, gooey plate of whipped cream-slathered pancakes.

  Since she gives head so often, I assume that Tina sincerely enjoys performing oral sex. "It's a power thing," she admits readily, "especially if the guy really enjoys it. If he climaxes quickly, I get this rush. Musicians have had lots of it, and if you're able to excite them, you think, `Wow, I'm pretty good at this. I rock!' I like discovering who is easy and who isn't. If it's more difficult, it's a challenge."

  Has there ever been a time when she couldn't get her conquest off, I wonder? "No. I do the deep throat technique because I don't have a gag reflex. I swallow if they ask. Otherwise, I don't, because it's bitter and salty and kind of yucky. Usually, I wait until the very last second, then move my face. Or I let them come on my breasts. That's a real rush for some guys. Of course, with Kid Rock, it was all over my face."

  Hooray, we've finally come to the infamous Kid Rock story. "The second week of August 2000, I took my friend to his show for her thirtieth birthday. We were in the fifth row, and his tour manager kept staring at me, so I flirted back. He came over to us and said, `You ladies sit up here. Kid Rock only wants to look at beautiful women in the front row.' We could almost touch him, and he looked right at me, so I flashed him. He seemed to like that because s
hortly thereafter, we got all-access passes. We went backstage after the show, and it was a wonderful spread. When Kid Rock arrived, we took pictures with him, and I whispered in his ear, `Do you wanna have a threesome?' He said, `No, thank you, but it's really sweet of you to ask.' There were all these gorgeous strippers flirting with him. I knew he could have his pick of the litter, but I kept making eyes. Then I took my beer bottle and simulated fellatio. It went all the way down, completely, until the bottle didn't show. I could tell by the way he watched me that he was getting turned on."

  Kid Rock was mighty intrigued and had his roadie invite Tina to pay him a visit at the back of the bus. "I thought I might be meeting a roadie or the guitar player, and I was really nervous. I went in and Kid Rock was there alone. He said, `You can shut the door.' He was standing there with just a white towel wrapped around his waist, moisture on his chest and stomach, his hair wet, and he was so sexy. I said, `Are we going to have sex?' He said, `No, I saw you with that beer bottle, and I want to find out if you're as good as you seem to be.' So I gave him a blow job, and he said, `Can I come on your face?' I told him, `Sure, you can do whatever you want.' He got a towel and wiped me off, dabbing at my face. He said sweetly, `Are you OK?' I said, `Yeah, everything's fine,' and he said, `Well, thank you ... bye,' and I left. He has a beautiful one," she says with hushed reverence, "and it's extremely clean. I couldn't believe what had just happened! I told Lisa, and she was jumping up and down, saying, `That's so awesome! I'm so happy for you!' We got in her SUV and just drove around for an hour. I sucked Kid Rock's cock! That was my Mount Everest, because of all of 'em, he's the most well known worldwide. His new CD just came out yesterday, and I got my tickets for his show in April. I have tenth row. But I'm going to find an empty seat closer to the railing. I have to be in the first four rows on the floor or the first row on the side of the stage. I want them to see me and make eye contact. If I'm twelve rows back, there's no way they're going to see me. Unless I do what I did at the Keith Urban show, which is stand up on my seat and flash them. But they don't always see that. You may have to flash them a few times before they see you. I'm spoiled, because once you get front row center, there's no going back. That's the Big Kahuna."

 

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