Not to be read by anyone under 18, unless your a hot chick.
In which case my address is:
6669 NE 89th St.
Des Moines, IA (not really, but you can still drop by and see who lives there if you want)
The following is completely fictional. Any resemblance to reality is entirely coincidental. Contents of this story are merely creative license, not unlike a TV show or movie that uses real people in fictional settings and situations. However, if you do have video or pictures of events similar to the ones described below, feel free to forward them to me for closer examination. Feedback, comments, praise, criticism,
death threats, nude photos, etc. can be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org
For personal use only. Feel free to distribute to friends, enemies, lovers, hopeful lovers, just keep my name and e-mail address on the story or I shall hunt you down and make you write the whole damn thing out by hand.
I hate to thank anybody, because that means I have to show gratitude, but without the ability to pick Hater’s brain I might have actually had to do some research for this story my own damn self. Hopefully I won’t have to thank anybody else for a while. That way I can go back to being a self absorbed asshole who cares for no one, not even the celebs I’m writing about.
The character of Jeremy is loosely based on ‘Hater, but only the obsessively in love with Beyonce part. Jeremy isn’t his real name (as far as I know), I just needed to call him something other than ‘Rulehater’ while he was in studio (I should also point out that Hater actually took the time to e-mail me points on how he would’ve reacted to certain things so it didn’t come off as so much of a spoof). Everything else is just me trying to make a character as bland as possible so it doesn’t look better than the other, less original, bland characters. And before ‘Hater tries to bump me off for the title of the story, Beyonce is not the ‘Bimbo’ being referred to.
“I met you on somebody’s island, you thought you had known me before. I brought you a crate of papaya, and waited all night by your door. You probably wouldn’t remember, I probably couldn’t forget. Jungle love in the surf and pouring rain, everything’s better when wet.” – The Steve Miller Band ‘Jungle Love’
Adventures In Radio #10 – Beach Blanket Bimbo
“We’re joined today by the bootylicious Beyonce Knowles,” I said as Beyonce walked into the studio wearing a bright, multi-colored blouse and a pair cut off denim shorts. The blouse was tied just below her rib cage exposing most her stomach and presenting a very appealing vision. As she sat down across the console from me, I continued “It’s great to have you here this afternoon. What have you been up to?”
“It’s great to be here. I was shopping on Rodeo Drive this morning, and was planning on hitting the beach after I left here. I love LA, even with all the smog,” she said.
“After a while, you don’t even notice the smog. You wake up wheezing sometimes, but that’s the price you pay to live in the entertainment capital of the world. In a few minutes we’ll be joined by the winner of our ‘Meet Beyonce’ contest, so he can come in here and play stalker for a little bit,” I joked.
“Is he here? Why not bring him out now?” Beyonce asked.
“He called and said that he’s stuck in traffic. He should be here in a few minutes though, so hang on tight. You might need a taser or something handy in case he gets a little rowdy, but other than that, I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine,” I said.
“Shawn makes me carry a can of mase with me, so I could always use that,” she said.
“I wouldn’t bring up Jay-Z in his presence. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy that would want to hear you talking about your significant other around him,” I pointed out. “You know, with him being a stalker and all.”
“He’s not my significant other,” Beyonce corrected me. Changing the subject, she asked “So what’s his name?”
“He said his name is Rulehater. The name makes him sound like some sort of deviant, but you never know with our audience. Our listeners are great, but every so often you get a bad egg. It makes it quite entertaining sometimes. We had one guy who was big, black, and mean looking. He turned out to be the greatest guy who ever lived. He taught Matt how to crush a beer can on his forehead. I declined the invitation to learn because I didn’t want to spend the next three days with an ice pack on my forehead. Then we had this short, tiny, white guy who wanted to cut my face off because I didn’t play the Beatles for him. I tried to explain to him that we’re not a classic rock station and the Beatles don’t come up on our playlists very often, but he was too stoned to listen. Moral of the story is that you can’t judge a book by it’s cover. Hell, Matt grows weed in his basement and everyone thinks he’s a fine upstanding citizen. He claims it’s for medicinal purposes, but he sells it to anyone that says they skinned their knee when they were five,” I said.
“I don’t grow marijuana in my basement. Why are you always making me seem like some deformed drug addict?” Matt demanded.
“Someone around here has to be a deformed drug addict. It adds comedic punch to the show, and until a real deformed drug addict walks in, you get to play the part my friend,” I told him.
“Why can’t I ever play the suave, sophisticated, jet setting, millionaire?” Matt asked.
“Because no one would believe it,” I answered. “No one like that would come in here. Why in the blue hell would someone like that want to set foot within 100 feet of a deformed drug addict?”
“I’m not a deformed drug addict,” Matt said, getting snippy.
“I know that, you know that, Beyonce might even know that, but the people at home like deformed drug addicts. I’m just trying to give the people what they want,” I explained.
“They don’t like deformed drug addicts,” Matt countered. “If they liked them, they wouldn’t cross the street every time they see one.”
“Just because they cross the street to get away from you, doesn’t mean they don’t love you,” I said. “Here’s Beyonce’s new song, ‘Baby Boy,’ and might I say that the video has me wishing I could be her Baby Boy. We’ll be back with the lucky guy that gets to meet his stalking victim, I mean favorite celebrity.”
“When’s he getting here?” Beyonce asked.
“When’s who getting here?” I asked, pushing my headphones back so I could hear better.
“The guy you were just talking about. That Rule guy,” Beyonce said.
“He just got here,” Matt answered. “He’s in talking to Kenny and should be here any second.”
“Speak of the devil,” I said as the door of the studio opened and Kenny walked in followed by a tall, light skinned black guy with an afro.
“This must be Rulebreaker,” Beyonce said, standing up.
“It’s Rulehater actually, but I ain’t mad at ya,” the new guy said, fighting the urge to pass out because Beyonce spoke to him. Looking like a kid in love, he smiled and said “You could call me Sally for all I care, but my real name is Jeremy.”
“OK Sally, sit your ass down,” I said, and then looked away as he shot me a look that said ‘I’m going to kill you if you even look at me cross eyed.’
“I said that Beyonce could call me Sally. You can call me Jeremy or Rulehater,” Jeremy said.
“Man, even the new guy with the funny hair gets to push me around,” I said as Jeremy took a seat next to Beyonce.
“I like his hair, but then everyone tells me that I belong in the ’70s instead of today,” Beyonce said, making Jeremy blush a deep a red.
Trying to change the subject, I sang a line from the Pearl Jam song ‘Jeremy’ “Jeremy spoke in, spoke in. Jeremy spoke in class today.”
“Where’s that from? Everyone sings that when I tell them my name, but no one will tell me where it’s from,” Jeremy said, staring at me blankly.
Hanging my head in exasperation, I said “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, why? Should I know it?” Jeremy asked seriously.
“It’s Pearl Jam. One of the biggest bands of the 90’s, and probably their biggest hit too,” I informed him. When he just gave me the Homer Simpson slow blink, I asked “So, what’s it like sitting close enough to Beyonce to cop a feel?”
“You’re even closer than he is,” Matt chimed in.
“If I wanted comments from the peanut gallery, I would’ve asked for them,” I told Matt.
“It’s great,” Jeremy answered. “I’m nervous as hell though, so I might stammer a little.”
“That’s OK, we all stammer in the presence of beauty. Matt still stutters like a kid that’s just been kicked in the head by a mule every time Christina Aguilera comes in,” I said.
“Richie rambles whenever someone he thinks is hot comes in,” Matt countered.
“Do you two always fight like this?” Beyonce asked.
“It’s actually been a little light today,” I responded. “We just go out after work and get drunk. It keeps us from staying mad at each other. You can’t be mad at someone who’s getting you plastered.”
“It’s nice to know that you have a healthy way of dealing with your anger,” Beyonce said, the sarcasm evident in her voice.
“It’s a guy thing,” I said, letting the comment slide. “Guys deal with everything by getting drunk, or breaking stuff, or both at the same time. We don’t talk about our feelings unless there’s a chance that we’ll be sleeping on the couch if we don’t. What do you think Jeremy?”
“Huh?” Jeremy asked. He had his headphones on, listening to Beyonce’s song and staring at her in the way that only a guy with an obsession could.
“Never mind, go back to your staring,” I said. Seeing my chance to use him for something useful, I asked “Is the song over yet?”
“No, it’s still got twenty seconds left,” Jeremy answered.
“You know the song down the second?” I asked, staring at him blankly. When he nodded, I continued “I could play part of the song and you could tell me how far in the clip was and how much is left to go?”
“For the most part, yeah,” he said.
“OK, you need to find a hobby. You know, something to keep your mind off of Beyonce for a few seconds a day,” I told him. “I’ve heard that collecting stamps is very rewarding.”
“It’s over,” he said, pulling his headphones off as the first commercial started.
Pulling my headphones back over one ear so I could listen for the end of the commercial break I popped in a Destiny’s Child CD and asked “What song and how far in are we?”
Listening for all of three seconds, Jeremy answered “It’s ‘Say My Name’ and you’re about fifteen seconds in.”
“I should kick you out of my studio for being able to do that,” I said, shaking my head at his knack.
Reaching across me, Beyonce switched tracks and asked “What song now?”
“‘Bills, Bills, Bills’, and you’re thirty seconds in,” Jeremy answered smugly.
“Seriously, get out of my studio,” I said, pointing to the door.
“Don’t kick him out, I think it’s great,” Beyonce said, slapping me on the arm.
“I can’t kick him out of my studio? Great, now I’m getting pushed around by everyone. You want some of this too Matt?” I asked.
“No, because you’ll send me back to work with Craig,” Matt said.
“At least there’s one person in here who’s not going to give me orders,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“I’m not giving you orders,” Beyonce said.
“You just told me not to kick him out of my studio for making me look bad. We in the radio business call that giving orders,” I pointed out. “I can’t kick him out anyway. I don’t want to violate the rules of the contest. So until I find out how long he’s supposed to be in here, I can’t kick him out.”
“I won’t make you look bad anymore,” Jeremy promised.
“It’s OK, I make myself look bad often enough that it’s kind of nice having someone else do the job for me. It’s either you or Matt, and I can throw you out on the streets and not have to see you again after we’re done here,” I said, grinning. “It looks like we’ve got a little more time, so I’m going to get some coffee. Feel free to flatter Beyonce to your heart’s content, but Matt will be watching so don’t try any funny stuff.”
Without wasting any time, I wasn’t even out of the studio before I heard Jeremy say “I love your skin, what do you use on it?”
Shaking my head at the corny line, I filled up my coffee cup and took a sip before I heard the final commercial starting on the speaker carrying the station’s signal. Doing some quick math in my head, I figured that the commercial is thirty seconds long, it’s a fifteen second walk to the studio, and there’s a three second delay between what’s going on in the studio and what’s playing on the speaker. That meant I had about 12 seconds to savor the taste of the coffee before I had to make a mad dash back to the studio. Deciding that a leisurely walk would be better than a dead run, I savored my coffee as I walked instead of standing there.
Walking back into the studio, I heard Jeremy ask “Why did you have to say his name?”
“You said something about Jay-Z didn’t you?” I asked Beyonce as we came back on the air. “I told you not to mention him.”
“I forgot,” Beyonce said. “I just said that he’s in New York for a few days.”
“I spent some time in New York last summer,” I said, trying to change the subject. “I had a great tour guide too. I won’t say her name because I don’t want to be accused of name dropping, but she was in a little movie called ‘Star Wars.’ OK, so I didn’t do a very good job of concealing her identity, but there might be one or two people who didn’t get it.”
“You had Natalie Portman show you around New York?” Jeremy asked.
“I thought I said I wasn’t going to tell the audience who it was,” I told him. “Yes, Natalie showed me around New York. I happen to be good friends with Natalie, and she volunteered to show me the sights when I was in town. Now I’ll be opening the papers and see that me and Natalie have been linked in the gossip columns. They’ll take ‘I’m good friends with Natalie’ and turn it into ‘I’m sleeping with Natalie Portman’ just so they can sell a couple extra papers.”
“Are you denying it?” Matt asked.
“I deny everything the papers have ever said about me. One of them once said I was good looking, so you know they’re all lying,” I said, grinning.
“You mean you didn’t sleep with Alyssa Milano?” Jeremy asked, disappointed.
“I never slept with Alyssa. I wish I had, but it never happened. I’d give my left one to do her, but she keeps telling me no. Alyssa, if you’re listening, I’m here if you ever want to go slumming,” I said, laughing at myself.
“That guy from ‘American Idol’ would be slumming. Anyone that lets me meet Beyonce is too cool to be considered slumming,” Jeremy said, obviously trying to kiss my ass.
“I won’t let you blast Ryan Seacrest like that. It may be true, but I have to look out for my fellow DJs. Besides, he wouldn’t want Alyssa if the rumors about him being gay are accurate,” I pointed out.
“He’s gay?” Beyonce asked, stunned.
“That’s what everyone says, but I’m not going to comment,” I answered as my cell phone started ringing. Pulling it out of my pocket, I looked at the caller ID and saw that Elisha was calling. Turning my phone off, I said “Elisha, I’ll call you in a moment when we’re off the air.”
“She’s calling you on the air?” Matt asked, trying to hide the contempt in his voice.
“Yeah, she must want to talk to Beyonce or something. Well, here’s Pearl Jam’s ‘Jeremy’ so Jeremy here will finally know what song everyone is singing when they meet him. We’ll be back in a little bit with today’s Top 5 list, but right now I need to return a phone call,” I said, hitting the play button.
“Who’s Elisha?” Beyonce asked.
“Elisha Cuthbert,” I answered, turning my cell phone back on and dialing Elisha’s number as I pushed my headphones off of one ear.
“Richie?” Elisha asked when she picked up the other end.
“Hey babe, sorry I couldn’t take the call a second ago because I was on the air,” I said.
“No problem. I was just going to remind you to get Beyonce’s autograph for me. I told you to get it the other day, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to remember or not. After all, you were on the verge of falling asleep when I asked you,” she said.
“Yeah, I remembered. Good thing Matt’s too busy to listen to how you wore me out like that or I might have an irate producer on my hands,” I said, shooting a grin in Matt’s direction.
“Shut up,” Matt snapped into my headphones.
“Matt just told me to shut up, so I think I managed to make him jealous,” I said, laughing.
“He can join in next time if you want,” she said seductively.
“Don’t tell him that,” I said. Turning off my microphone so Matt could hear, I continued “That would mean I have to share, and I don’t share well with others. I almost got held back in kindergarten because I wouldn’t let anyone else play with the trucks.”
“Is your guest behaving himself, or is he driving Beyonce crazy like you thought he would?” She asked, changing the subject.
“A little of both I think. She hasn’t had to use the pepper spray on him yet, so he must be controlling himself,” I answered.
“I’ll let you go, but make sure to tell Beyonce that I love her new album,” Elisha said.
“OK, talk to you later,” I said just before she hung up on me.
“Just in time to go back on the air,” Matt said into my headphones.
Turning my microphone back on as we came back on the air, I said “Well, I just got a request for a Beyonce autograph. Here I was, hoping that she was calling me, but she just wanted to ask for an autograph.”
“I’ve got friends who call me just to ask for Jay’s autograph,” Beyonce said.
“Nooo,” Jeremy bellowed at the mention of Jay-Z.
“There you go mentioning him in front of Jeremy again. You’re really going to hurt his feelings one of these times. He’s hanging onto sanity by the slimmest of threads already, and now you’re taking that away from him. The only thing that keeps him from going postal is the thought he stands a chance with you. I’d rather have him go postal somewhere else. You know, somewhere where I’m not going to be one of the first victims,” I said.
“Sorry. I keep forgetting,” Beyonce said.
“We’ll send him out with Matt tonight and get him loaded. Matt can help him look for a nice girl who will help him forget all about you,” I told her. “This is LA, where hot chicks grow on trees and everyone else’s hot chicks move. Matt will pull his ‘movie producer’ trick and there’ll be more tail there than you could possibly go through in a year.”
“You’re going to trick some innocent girl?” Beyonce asked, disgusted.
“If they’re going to sleep with some guy because they think he’s a movie producer, then they’re far from innocent. Most of them could suck the chrome off a tail pipe, so they’ve obviously done it a time or two before,” I pointed out.
“You still shouldn’t lie to someone just to get them in bed. It’s just not right,” she said.
“I haven’t had to lie for a while now. Once they started thinking that I was boning Alyssa Milano, they were lining up at my door. They must think that if I’m good enough for her, then I must have something that they’re not seeing,” I shrugged.
“You’re cute for a white guy,” Beyonce said, teasing me.
“Thank you for that,” I said, blushing at the compliment. Changing the subject, I said “Here’s today’s Top 5 list from our guest, Jeremy.”
“Do I make one up on the spot or do you have one for me to read?” Jeremy asked, looking around for a list.
“I thought you were bringing one in with you,” I said. When he shook his head, I said “OK, then I’ll toss a subject out and you come up with five and an honorable mention. How about ‘Top 5 Women of R&B’?”
“Hmm,” Jeremy said, thinking. “Honorable Mention can be Alicia Keys. Awesome album, great voice, and boy, is she fine. If she gets out from behind that piano and shows more sexiness, she’d definitely move up.”
“Nice choice my friend. Great songs, and even better looking. I had her copy of FHM until Matt stole it and defiled it,” I said.
“I didn’t defile it,” Matt protested. “I’ve still got it in pristine condition, but you’re not getting it back.”
“Like hell I’m not. I’ll blackmail you to get it back if I have to,” I warned him.
“Number 5 would probably be Toni Braxton,” Jeremy said, cutting off Matt’s response.
“I feel ashamed to admit this, but I never really saw the big deal with Toni,” I said, getting back on topic. “I think it’s the short hair she had when she first came out that killed it for me. She didn’t have that spark for me early on and I’ve never really been able to find it.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been in love with Toni forever and she only gets hotter as she gets older,” Jeremy said, dumbfounded by my lack of attraction for Toni Braxton.
“I can see that, but there’s no attraction there for me,” I responded.
“I think she’s hot,” Matt put in.
“You should be kissing my ass instead of his,” I told Matt.
“Don’t get mad at him just because he has taste,” Jeremy said. “Number 4 would be Janet Jackson.”
“First, ouch. Second, I used to be a big fan of Janet. ‘Any Time, Any Place’ is still one of the sexiest videos I’ve ever seen. She’s just reached the point where she’s gotten old enough that I can’t overlook the resemblance to her brother any longer,” I said.
“Yeah, I’d have her higher if she didn’t look so much like Micheal. Anyway, number 3 would have to be Mya. I wouldn’t mind seeing if her love was really like ‘wo’,” Jeremy said, grinning at his bad play on Mya’s latest song title, ‘My Love Is Like Wo.’
Groaning, I said “Lay off the puns please. Nothing will get rotten tomatoes thrown at you quicker than a bad pun, and that one was nuclear. That one would make even the lamest comic want to kill you.”
“Lets see, number 2 would probably be Ashanti,” he said.
“Tight little body on her, even if she can’t sing. Toss in that ass clown Ja Rule and you almost have enough to make me want to stay away from her. Notice I said ‘almost’ there. It’d take something like the end of ‘The Crying Game’ to keep me away from Ashanti,” I said, and got both Jeremy and Beyonce staring at me blankly. Deciding that I’d have to explain it to them, I said “It means she’d have to have a d***.”
“Oh, yuck,” Jeremy said, grimacing. Pointing to Beyonce, he said “I think we all know who number 1 is, so I’ll just say that she’s sitting next to me.”
“I think that’s the most obvious number 1 we’ve ever had. It just barely tops the time I crowned The Beatles the greatest rock band ever. At least with that one there was the possibility that the Rolling Stones might come out on top. These kind of lists are nice because it doesn’t take a whole lot of brain cells to figure out where everything goes,” I said.
“How could I make a list like that and not put my number one girl of all time at the top?” Jeremy asked.
“Well, you can’t. Even if she wasn’t in the room right now, I’d agree with your choice of a number one. She’s a beautiful slice of chocolate love,” I said, hoping Beyonce wouldn’t hit for saying it.
“Thanks, I guess,” she said. “I don’t know if I should be flattered that you’re saying I’m beautiful, or offended for calling me chocolate love.”
“I’m hoping you decide to take it as a compliment,” I said, trying to back peddle out of the predicament.
“Then I guess I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said, smiling to show that she was joking about being offended.
“OK, well that finishes the show for today. I’d like to thank Beyonce for coming in and letting me call her a fine piece of chocolate love. I also should probably thank Elisha Cuthbert for calling to remind me to get Beyonce’s autograph for her. I should probably get that now before I forget,” I said, pushing a copy of her CD and a pen towards Beyonce. As Beyonce picked up the pen and pulled out the booklet of the CD to sign, I continued “The show was produced today and every day by the original deformed drug addict, Matt Miller. It’s time for Jeremy to take one last gaze on Beyonce while we play the final song of the day. The final request is from Heather. She wants to hear Jessica Simpson’s new song, ‘The Sweetest Sin,’ and I must say that my mind wanders with thoughts of committing some of those sins with Jessica.”
“Is Jeremy coming with me?” Matt asked when we were off the air.
“I don’t know. He’ll have more fun with you getting loaded than sitting at home thinking about Beyonce,” I said, picking up the CD Beyonce had just signed and walked out of the studio.
“Sure, where we going?” Jeremy asked Matt.
“I’ve got a couple bars in mind. Come on,” Matt said, nodding his head towards the door.
“Can I get a hug from Beyonce before we go?” Jeremy asked before Matt coul drag him out of the studio. When Beyonce gave him a hug, he looked like he was in heaven. Then when she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, he looked like he was seeing his all his descendants on the other side of the tunnel of white light.
“You sure you’re going to be able to walk out of here like that?” I asked him, noticing the little wobble in his step brought on by the kiss from his idol. He just nodded and grabbed Matt’s arm to steady himself as he walked out.
When Matt and Jeremy were gone, I looked at Beyonce and asked “You’re going to the beach huh?”
“Yeah, I’m in my beach going clothes,” she said, motioning towards her bright shirt and shorts.
“Want any company? I could always use some sun,” I said.
“As long as I can dunk you under the water,” she said playfully.
“You can try, but I’ve got pretty good balance and strong legs. You’re not going to be able to power me under the water, and I don’t trip easy,” I grinned.
“I’ll just flash you then and watch you faint,” she said, making my jaw drop. “Close your mouth and lets go.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said, following her out the door of the building.
“I know a great beach, so just follow me,” she said, getting into her car.
Giving her a salute, I made my way to my own car with her following behind me in hers. Getting in, I pulled out and followed her out of the parking lot.
“Fuck it all and fucking no regrets,” I sang to myself over and over as Metallica’s ‘Damage Inc.’ popped into my head out of the blue while following Beyonce.
Seeing Beyonce pull over off on a run down side road, I wondered if she knew where she was going. When we crested the top of a hill, I saw a deserted beach surrounded by cliffs spread out below us. She pulled over to the side and parked, so I followed suit and parked right behind her.
“You just walk down the path right over there, and it’ll take you right down to the beach,” she said, getting out of her car.
“It doesn’t look like too many people know about it. How’d you find it?” I asked, getting out of my own car.
“It’s a private beach, and I know the person who owns it,” she said, walking around to the back of her car to open the trunk. Pulling two towels out of the trunk, she closed it again.
“Were you expecting me or something?” I asked.
“Huh?” She asked, not understanding me.
“You brought two towels, so I was wondering if you were expecting company,” I explained.
“No, I was going to use one to lay on and the other to dry myself off after going in the water,” she said.
“Oh, well can I use one? I don’t have one, so either you let me use one or I steal your car keys and lay all over your car seats while I’m still wet,” I said, grinning.
“You keep your soggy butt away from my car seat. Do you have a suit with you, or do you need one of those too?” She asked, sarcasm dripping off of her words.
“No, I have an extra pair of shorts in the car that I can change into afterwards,” I said, pointing back at my car as we walked. “The ones I’m wearing are good enough. If not, then I can swim in my underwear.”
“Just making sure you’re not planning on skinny dipping,” she said, leaning in to playfully nudge me with her shoulder.
“I only believe in skinny dipping if there’s a woman who’s willing to skinny dip with me,” I said, raising my eyebrow at her as we walked along the path.
“I don’t see one around here who’s willing to do it, so I guess you’ll have to keep your shorts on,” she said, pretending to look over her shoulders for other people.
“You’re no fun,” I said, putting my hand on her shoulder and slightly pushing her away.
“Don’t make me hit you,” she said, laughing.
“Come on, put them up,” I said, holding up my fists in front of me in a mock fighting stance.
“Eek,” she said, laughing as she took off running toward the beach.
“Come back and fight like a man,” I yelled as I took off after her. Catching her, I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder as I continued to walk toward the water.
“Put me down,” she said, pounding on my back.
“I will as soon as we’re in the water,” I told her.
“At least let me get my shorts off,” she hollered as she kicked her sandals off.
“Fine,” I said, setting her down. “You can take your clothes off, but then you’re going right in the water.”
I kicked off my shoes and socks while she unbuttoned her shorts. Trying not to stare, I watched as she pushed her shorts down those magnificent cocoa brown legs of hers.
Stepping out of them, she tossed them in my face, took off, and said “Sucker.”
“Come back here,” I yelled, taking my shirt off as I ran after her. As I ran, my eyes were fixed on her ass encased in a pair of lime green bikini bottoms.
“Don’t throw me in,” she begged, laughing hysterically when I caught her.
“I won’t throw you in,” I assured her. When she didn’t believe me, I shrugged and walked back and picked up the towels and our clothing.
“Thanks,” she said when I came back with everything.
“No problem,” I said, handing her the towels, her sandals, and her shorts.
Tossing my shoes and shirt on the ground, I again tried not to stare at her ass as she bent over to spread one of the towels out on the ground. When stood up, she untied her blouse and started unbuttoning it. When she reached the top, she pulled it off and folded it neatly so and set on top of the towel.
“Wow,” I said, taking in the sight of this gorgeous woman in a tiny little bikini standing in front of me. Her breasts seemed to be straining to be released from the bikini top and I could make out her nipples poking against the fabric slightly.
“Going for a swim?” She asked, seeing me just standing there doing nothing.
“I was thinking about it. Want to join me?”
“I think I’m going to lay out for a bit first,” she answered, laying down on her towel.
“You’re going to make me swim in the ocean all by myself? What if I start drowning? I could be killed,” I said with mock somberness.
“I’m willing to take that risk,” Beyonce said, winking to show that she was joking.
“If we’re going to get a tan, then I’m going to get some music. Anything you want to listen to?” I asked.
“Old school R&B,” she answered.
“The closest to that I have in my car is Chuck Berry. I had old Micheal Jackson in there, but I took it out to make room for Fountains of Wayne,” I said.
“I’ve got some in my car,” she said, tossing me her keys.
“All righty then,” I said, doing a quick Jim Carrey impression from ‘Ace Ventura.’ “I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t take off any more clothing without me.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” she said, laughing.
Humming the riff to Black Sabbath’s ‘Electric Funeral’ to myself, I walked back to the cars. Hitting the button on the remote of Beyonce’s key chain to unlock her car, I was surprised when the horn started honking incessantly. “Fuck,” I said under my breath as I hit the right button and the horn stopped blaring. Opening the door, I dug around in the CDs on the console between the seats. Grabbing a few CDs, I shut the door as I looked to see what I’d managed to grab.
“Marvin Gaye, nice. Patty LaBelle, double nice. Barry White, the ultimate soundtrack for love. Aretha Franklin, the queen of soul,” I said as I read the titles of the CDs.
Not having a fancy remote to unlock my car door, I had to do it by hand. Opening the door, I reached into the back seat and grabbed the cheap CD player that I had left back there from the time I had let my nephew use it a couple weeks ago. When he gave it back, I had just tossed it in the back seat and forgotten about it. At least it was coming in handy now. At the last minute, I grabbed a couple of my own CDs.
“If I’m going to listen to her music, then she’s going to listen to mine as well,” I said defiantly to myself as I shut the door and locked it. Hitting the button to lock her car, I winced in case the horn decided to honk at me again. When it didn’t, I heaved a sigh of relief and made my way back to the beach.
“What’d you get?” She asked, holding a bottle of suntan lotion in one hand was rubbing some lotion it into the skin of her stomach with the other.
“A little of this, a little of that,” I answered noncommittally.
“Come on, what’d you get?” She pressed.
“From your car, I got Barry White, Patty LaBelle, Aretha Franklin, and Marvin Gaye. From my car, I got The White Stripes, Liz Phair, and Led Zeppelin just to show that I go back just as far as you with my music,” I answered.
“Put on Patty,” she commanded, closing her eyes.
“It’s my stereo dammit. I’ll put on whatever I want to, and I want to put on The White Stripes right now,” I said, putting in their Elephant CD. As the opening of ‘Seven Nation Army’ came on, I spread out the other towel and laid down on it.
After a few songs, Beyonce turned her head to look at me and asked “Can we listen to my music now?”
“Pushy, pushy, pushy,” I said, turning the CD off. Grabbing one of her CDs, I popped in and hit play. The sound of Aretha Franklin’s voice erupted out of the speakers as she sang about needing some respect.
“Ooo, your kisses (oo), sweeter than honey (oo). And guess what? (oo) So is my money (oo)
All I want you to do (oo) for me, is give it to me when you get home (re, re, re, re). Yeah baby (re, re, re, re), whip it to me (respect, just a little bit). When you get home, now (just a little bit). R – E – S – P – E – C – T, find out what it means to me. R – E – S – P – E – C – T, take care, TCB,” Beyonce sang along to the song, making me laugh as she got into the song.
“I’m supposed to be the one who gets that into a song,” I told her. At least you can sing, and I can always claim that I got a free, private concert from you.”
“How can you not get into Aretha Franklin? I mean, she’s the queen of soul,” Beyonce stated.
“She’s great, but I’ve never had that much exposure to her. I spent most of my youth listening to AC/DC and Black Sabbath. There generally isn’t a whole lot of overlap in Metallica fans and Aretha Franklin fans,” I said, shrugging.
“At least you admit that she’s the queen,” Beyonce said, rolling over onto her stomach. Grabbing the bottle on suntan lotion off the towel next to her, she held it out to me and asked “Want to do my back?”
Trying to be as smooth as possible, I answered “Of course. Do you want me to untie the string? Or should I just work around it?”
She put her hands under her chin and said “Go ahead and untie it. It’s not like you’re going to see anything.”
I untied the string of her bikini top that ran across her back and let the ends drop to her sides. The sides of her almost bare breasts were visible, pressed against the towel. Squirting some lotion into the palm of my hand, I rubbed my hands together to warm the lotion up before applying it. The thought had occurred to me to squirt it directly on the middle of her back to see if she’d jump and give me a little flash, but my parents did too good a job of raising me with morals.
“The lotion’s not going to soak in if you do it like that,” Beyonce informed me as my hands glided over her back. “You have to rub it in.”
“Sorry, I’ll rub harder,” I said, applying more pressure to work the lotion in better like she said. Not wanting to make her think I’m just looking to cop a feel, I didn’t let my fingers roam down her sides or too close to her ass.
“I said I wanted my whole back done, you missed my entire lower back,” Beyonce said.
Squirting a little extra lotion into my hand, I shrugged and rubbed it into her lower back. Letting my hands wander to the edge of the material of her bikini bottom, the tips even slipped under a time or two as I worked the lotion in.
“Is that better?” I asked her.
“Much,” she answered. “Too bad I already did my legs because you do a better job than me.”
“I’ve had a little practice rubbing lotion on stuff,” I said, grinning at the remark as I sat back on my feet.
“I hope you’re talking about rubbing lotion on women’s backs. Otherwise that might be considered a little too much information,” she said, grinning as well.
“Uh, yeah. That’s, uh, exactly what I meant,” I said, trying to look innocent.
“You might want to go take a swim until you calm down a bit,” she said, looking at my crotch.
Following her gaze, I saw that my shorts were tented severely in the front from having my hands all over her. Covering myself up, I apologized “Sorry about that.”
Averting her gaze, she asked “Tell me the truth, did you really sleep with Alyssa?”
“No. I tell everyone that, and no one seems to believe me. She’s got a strange taste in men, but just about every one I know has some kind of celebrity. I don’t, so it’s odd that everyone seems to think we’re secret lovers or something,” I explained.
“I know about you and Jessica, so it’s not that big a jump from her to Alyssa,” Beyonce said, looking me in the eyes.
“Jessica?” I asked, not sure who she was talking about.
“Alba. You know, the one you’re always babbling about on your show,” Beyonce answered.
“How’d you know about that? Did Matt tell you?” I asked.
“No, Jessica told me. She told me you might try something, and even suggested that I let you,” she said, blushing slightly.
“I didn’t even know you knew Jessica,” I said.
“We both endorse Loreal, so we’ve done a couple commercials together. We’re not the best of friends or anything, but we keep in touch. When I told her I was going to be on your show, she told me about you,” Beyonce said.
“I must say that when I woke up this morning, I had no idea I’d be sitting on the beach discussing my sex life with you,” I said, looking out at the ocean as the sun started to set. The sun’s rays showering pink light across the surface of the water and the surrounding hills as it sank behind the horizon.
“Yeah, that guy you had in studio would probably freak if he knew,” Beyonce said, tinges of a smile evident at the corners of her mouth.
“He wouldn’t want to hear about my sex life. He’d sit through it in hopes of hearing some tidbit about the sweaty pillow fights on the tour bus with Kelly Rowland though,” I said, grinning.
“Who told you about our pillow fights?” Beyonce asked, looking perfectly serious. Breaking into a big smile, she said “He wouldn’t like my sex life. He doesn’t seem to like the fact that I’m dating someone other than him, so thinking of me having sex with someone else would just depress him.”
“It depresses me too,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “I know how I feel every time I find out my favorite celebrity is sleeping around on me. Listen to how I’m talking, no wonder I have so many restraining orders against me.”
“Oh come on, you don’t even like me,” Beyonce said, winking at me to show that she was joking.
“I don’t like you? I’m sitting here hoping you’ll move just enough to let me see the goodies,” I said, moving my upper body around to emphasize the point.
She reached out to playfully smack me on the leg, but I moved out of her range. Trying to get me again, she lifted herself up and her bikini top fell to hang by the string tied around her neck. When I suddenly stopped to stare her now bare breasts, she was finally able to smack me.
Realizing that she had just inadvertently flashed me, her cheeks flushed and quickly pulled the top down and said “I guess you got what you wanted.”
“Oh yeah, and they were marvelous,” I said, grinning wickedly at her.
“You must make a habit of sneaking peeks at women,” she said, her cheeks still red but no real anger in her voice. “From what Jessica told me, that’s how she got your attention.”
“I’m always ready to take advantage of a situation,” I said, grinning.
“Oh really?” Beyonce asked, rolling her eyes.
“So, are you and Jay-Z really dating or are you ‘just friends’ like you tell the press?” I asked, seeing if I could get anything out of her.
“It’s a little of both,” she said shyly, seemingly trying to avoid the question.
“A little of both? Either you’re dating someone or you’re not. Unless of course you’re just fuck buddies,” I said, wondering if maybe that was what she had meant.
“We’re not ‘fuck buddies’,” she said, making it clear that that wasn’t what was going on.
“Then what are you?,” I pressed her. “Are you dating, or aren’t you.”
“We were dating, but then we broke up. Right now we’re just really good friends,” she explained.
“No booty calls?” I asked, trying not to sound disappointed.
“No, I’m between men right now,” she said, blushing again.
“You know, if you want a booty call you can always call me,” I offered.
“I just might do that,” she said, so casually that it caught me slightly off guard.
“Then what about now?” I asked, seeing if she had said it just to get a rise out of me.
“I don’t know,” she said, turning her head away from me.
I couldn’t tell if she was just toying with me or if she was actually thinking about it. Deciding to press her to find out which one it was, I said “The beach is deserted and it’s getting dark so it’s not like anyone is going to see.”
She arched her back enough so she could raise her head and look around, but not enough to show me anything that I might want to see. When her head turned towards me, I could see that her eyes were scanning the area for people.
“Jessica did say you were pretty good,” she said finally.
“I’ve had some practice since then, so I just might be even better now,” I said, hoping to break the tension that had built up. When she didn’t respond, I decided to gamble and leaned in to kiss her.
“You’re a good kisser,” she said when the kiss broke.
“I’ve been-,” I started to say, but was cut off when she kissed me back.
Her lips felt so soft and delicate as she pressed them against my own. Putting my hand on the back of her head, I closed my eyes and returned the kiss with as much tenderness as I could muster. I could smell the coconut scented suntan lotion on her skin as I felt her tongue press against my lips. Parting my lips, I let her tongue slide past and into my mouth.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, I pulled her on top of me. Her bikini top was pushed out of the way by the movement and I could feel her nipples poking my bare chest. Sliding my hands down her back, I kneaded her skin with my fingers. Reaching her ass, I cupped her butt cheeks and pressed her tighter to me.
Rolling her over onto her back, I kissed my way down her neck to her collarbone. Continuing my way down her body, I licked my way around one of her nipples before taking it into my mouth. Sucking on the nipple, I tweaked the other one between my fingers.
Beyonce moaned and grabbed the back of my head, pressing it harder against her breasts. Her nipples were hard and puffy as I worked them over. When I let the nipple fall from my mouth, she groaned in disappointment until I switched sides and sucked on her other nipple.
When I felt that her nipples had had enough attention for the moment, I worked my way down her stomach with light kisses and licks. Reaching her waist, I hooked my fingers in the waist of her bikini bottoms and tugged on them. While Beyonce lifted her butt up off the towel underneath us, I peeled them down to reveal a thick mat of dark pubic hair that was cropped up and away from her pussy.
Tossing the bottoms to the side, I started at her ankle and kissed my way up the inside of her leg until I was just below the vee of her crotch. Switching sides, I repeated the process from her ankle to just past mid thigh.
Looking up at her face, I could see her biting her lower lip in anticipation of what I was about to do. Running my fingers through her pubic hair, I opened my mouth and blew a stream of air across her slit. A shudder ran through her as the air interacted with her wetness and sent a slight chill through her despite the warmth of the evening.
“Please,” she begged, arching her back to push her crotch at my face.
Draping her legs over my shoulders, I grabbed her ass in my hands and buried my face in her cunt. Lapping up the initial moisture, I licked the entire length of her cleft. Finding her clit already hard and sticking out, I flicked it a couple times before returning my tongue to her slit.
“Ohh,” Beyonce moaned as my tongue danced along the surface of her pussy.
Sucking her clit into my mouth, I applied as much suction as I could muster and had to fight to hold her hips still as they bucked in excitement. While her clit was in my mouth, I flicked it rapidly with the tip of my tongue, driving her wild.
“Oh, oh,” Beyonce panted as I drove her higher and higher.
Suddenly, she grabbed the top of my head and clamped her thighs tightly around my head. Holding my head tightly against her pussy, I was rewarded with a flood of cream drenching my chin and mouth. I licked as much up as I could, but some dribbled down her ass before I could get it.
“Wow,” Beyonce sighed as I extricated myself from between her thighs.
“You’re going to suffocate someone one of these days,” I told her, leaning back to sit on my heels while on my knees.
“You’re complaining?” She asked, grinning in her post orgasmic bliss.
“No, just pointing it out to make conversation,” I answered, unbuttoning my shorts.
“Let me do that,” she offered, sitting up and reaching for my shorts.
“Go for it,” I said, laying down to let her take over.
Before I could lift my butt up, she pulled my shorts down with a ferocious determination that I hadn’t thought she was capable of. Learning my lesson, I lifted my ass up so she could pull down my boxers before she dragged me across the beach in an effort to get them down. The girl was certainly into it, and I just hoped that I’d be able to keep up with her.
“You want me to suck it?” She asked, grabbing my cock.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” I answered, trying to be smooth but failing miserably.
She stroked the full length of my cock in her hand, looking at me as I laid there. Bending her head down, she ran the tip of her tongue all along the underside of my cock. She finished the lick by running her tongue under the crown of my dick, eliciting a soft groan satisfaction from me.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched her as she took the head of my cock into her mouth. There was enough of a moon in the sky that I could see her cheeks hollow as she sucked me off. From the way she continued to suck on me while sliding her mouth down my shaft, I could tell that she definitely knew what she was doing.
Just as I felt myself starting to crawl toward the edge of my climax, she pulled her mouth off. Sliding up my body until she was straddling my waist, she ground her pussy against my cock a couple times. Lifting herself up, she grabbed my dick and pointed it at her dripping pussy.
It seemed like she stayed like that forever, with my cock poised at her entrance, but after only a couple seconds she started to slither her pussy down my cock. I grabbed onto her hips as I felt my dick engulfed in her fiery wetness. Her cunt gripped me fiercely and my breath caught in my throat while I waited for her snatch to fully swallow my manhood.
“Uhh,” Beyonce moaned when she was finally sitting on lap with my cock buried in her to the hilt.
She lingered like that for a moment, enjoying the feeling of being filled. Leaning down, she put her hands on either side of my shoulders and looked me in the eyes as her hair spilled over and dragged across my face and chest.
As she raised herself up, I could feel her inner muscles clenching and milking me as she worked her way up my cock. Dropping back down, she gave a strangled cry as I raised my hips up to meet her thrust.
The contrast of her light brown skin against my pasty white skin was making everything even more erotic as she fucked herself with my cock. Moving my hands to her ass, I palmed her buttocks and used them as leverage to pull her down onto me.
“Oh yeah,” she moaned louder, letting herself get more into it.
Sitting upright, she threw her head back and moved her hips in a circle, grinding her crotch against mine. Grabbing her tits, she tweaked the nipples as she rode me. The look on her face was of a woman who was gradually losing herself in the sensations coursing through her.
Grabbing her hips again, I rolled her over onto her back. Pulling myself out until just the head of my cock was seated in her pussy, I drove back into her as hard as I could. She threw her legs around my waist and locked them behind me. Feeling her athletic legs wrapped around me and drawing me into her, I was spurred on to fuck her even faster.
“That’s it,” she moaned, her voice loud enough that it was approaching a scream.
I could feel my orgasm starting to build up inside me, but I wanted to hold off until she could get there as well. From the stream of shrieks that were coming from her, I guessed it wouldn’t be long.
“I’m gonna cum,” Beyonce panted, arching her back and almost throwing me off of her.
Feeling her cunt clamp down me, I gave her a couple more quick thrusts until my own orgasm was upon me. Pulling out her, I bellowed my own release. Tossing my head back, I let my cock rest against her pussy as the first eruption flew out of the end of my cock. Jerking my hips involuntarily, my cock slipped between her legs and the rest of my cum shot out onto her ass and the towel beneath us.
Falling to her side, I was suddenly aware that it felt like I had half beach embedded between the cheeks of my ass. Grabbing my clothes, I started to pull them on.
“Jessica was right, you are pretty good,” Beyonce said, retying her bikini top behind her back.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I said, making the understatement of the century.
When we were both dressed, Beyonce said “We should probably be going.”
“Yeah, I should be getting home so I can watch TV for a little while before bed,” I responded.
“We should do this again sometime,” she said, leaning her head against my shoulder as we walked along the path to our cars.
“Yeah, but next time might be better if it was somewhere other than the beach. It was great, but I’m going to washing sand out of my ass crack for days,” I said, smiling.
Reaching our cars, she opened the door of her car and pulled out a slip of paper. “Here’s my number, be sure to call me.”
“I’ll do that,” I said, slipping the paper into the pocket of my shorts. Noticing a car parked a little ways away, I pointed it out to her and asked “Who’s that?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, looking worried that maybe someone might have been watching us.
“There you are,” a male voice said from off to the side of us.
I turned my head just time to feel something hard crash against my jaw. Falling back against my car, my head was still ringing when I felt a fist slam into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me in a rush.
“Leave him alone,” I heard Beyonce scream.
“Jay told me to keep an eye on you, and what do I find? I find you fucking this asshole,” the guy screamed back at her.
He had turned his attention away from me for a moment, allowing me to collect my thoughts. As my vision cleared, I could see a well muscled white guy with his pants halfway down to his ankles.
Turning his attention back to me, he punched me on the side of the head with enough force that it seemed like he had an anvil in the palm of his hand. Falling to the ground, I struggled to my hands and knees before a foot crashed into my rib cage.
“You think you can fuck with my boy’s girl?” He screamed at me as I fell flat to the dirt, cradling my ribs.
“Leave him alone Derek,” Beyonce screamed again.
Looking up, I could see her trying to pull him away from me. He just pushed her off and brought his foot against the side of my ribs.
“Get in the car, now,” he screamed at her.
“Only if you leave him alone,” Beyonce said, in hysterics by now.
“I’m going to teach this fuckin’ piece of white trash not to mess with another man’s girl,” he said, raising his foot and bringing it down on my ankle.
A jolt of pain erupted in my ankle that forced a groan of agony from my lips. The pain didn’t dull my sarcastic mouth though because I said “You think I’m white trash? Take a look in the mirror asshole.”
“You think you’re smart?” He asked, reaching into the waist of his pants and pulling out a silver object.
It took me a second or two to realize that I was suddenly looking down the barrel of a gun. Rolling over onto my back, I sat up and scooted away from him.
“I’ll go with you, but don’t hurt him,” Beyonce said, pulling on his arm.
Looking back at me, he said “Don’t fuck with something that’s not your’s.”
He gave me one more swift kick to my ribs before grabbing Beyonce by the arm and dragging her to her car. Trying to catch my breath, I reached into pocket for my cell phone. Pulling it out, I cursed under my breath when I saw it fall apart in my hand.
Glancing up, I saw Beyonce’s car pulling away from me. Grabbing onto the door of my car, I hoisted myself up. The moment I put any weight on my foot, a jolt of excruciating pain shot throughout my leg. It was enough that I collapsed back onto the ground and passed out.