Adventures In Radio #7 – Phairly Phaithful

Not to be read by anyone under 18, unless your a hot chick. In which case my address is:

6669 NE 89th St.

Seattle, WA (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 the e-mail address below. Feedback, comments,
praise, criticism,
death threats, nude photos, etc. can be sent to
voodoojoe2000@yahoo.com

For personal use only. Feel free to distribute to friends, enemies,
lovers, or even 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.

If you don’t know who Liz Phair is, do yourself a favor and check
out some of her music. Anyone that can put the lines “Your kisses
are wicked as an F-16. And you fuck like a volcano and you’re
everything to me” into one of their songs, like she did with
‘Supernova’ has to be considered great. Then you factor in that
she’s gorgeous and you get a recipe for one of my all time
favorites. She’s also a reknowned potty mouth, so that why she’s
saying ‘fuck’ so much.

“Invisible air waves crackle with life, bright antennas bristle with
the energy. Emotional feedback, a timeless wavelength, bearing a
gift beyond price to all those receiving.” – Rush ‘The Spirit Of
Radio’

Adventures In Radio #7 – Phairly Phaithful

by voodoojoe

“We’re joined today by the extremely lovely Liz Phair. Can I tell
you that I’m a huge fan?” I asked Liz as she sat down wearing a
green belly shirt and a denim skirt that came down to just above her
knees.

“You may, I love my fans. I may not have the fan base or name
recognition of most of your guests, but I’d bet anything that the
ones I do have are just as loyal, if not more,” she answered.

“Loyal might not be the right word for it. I think ‘obsessive’ or
‘borderline stalkers’ might fit better. As someone who would beat up
small kittens for a piece of your partially eaten sandwich, I know
what I’m talking about. Celebrity crushes have come and gone, but
you’ve remained the one above all else in my head for almost a
decade now. The first time I saw the video for ‘Never Said,’ I was
hooked. I’m actually trembling just being across the console from
you,” I told her.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or scared. If you’re willing
to beat up kittens for my sandwich, I’d hate to see what you’d do
for a hand job.”

“I honestly don’t know if you’re allowed to say that on the air. I
was too shocked that you said it to bleep it in time, so I guess
I’ll find out if it’s OK when the FCC levies a fine against me for
it. It’d be worth it just to hear you say ‘h*** job’ though,” I
said, making sure to bleep myself.

“If you get in trouble, then I’ll pay the fine. I can’t let one of
my fans pay for my f*** up,” she said, making me push the button to
dump her use of the ‘F’ word.

“I love having someone in here that’s willing to make me work for my
money. I can tell my finger is going to have to be poised over this
button for a while.”

“That’s why it’s there,” she pointed out. “I swear, and you push
your button to edit me.”

Trying to get back on topic, I said “I think it’s a shame that
someone like you has to toil in the shadows while less deserving
artists are selling millions of records. Even Sheryl Crow probably
wouldn’t make it in this day and age. She came along at the that
right time where people wanted a woman who knew how to do more than
just sing and look pretty.”

“Would I love to sell millions of records? Yeah, but I know how the
industry works,” she shrugged. “Besides, who wants to deal with
everything Britney Spears has to on a daily basis? I like being able
to do my thing and make a living while being able to keep my private
life private.”

“Be like me,” I offered. “I do something where no one cares about me
because they don’t know what I look like. I can walk down the
street, pass a hundred listeners, and not have to worry about being
recognized. I’ve got enough of a following that I can trade on my
name, yet not be bothered by people while I’m eating.”

“I understand where they’re coming from. If someone you look up to
is sitting there, you’re going to want to meet them. If you wait,
you might miss your chance and kick yourself later. We were all fans
at some point in our lives, so we shouldn’t get pissed when a fan
interrupts something. Frankly, we made the choice to be in the
public eye, so we need to deal with the consequences.”

“I knew there was more to you than just your looks and music that I
loved about you,” I told her. “Right now, we’re going to play your
new song ‘Why Can’t I?’, and then commercials. Will you stay with me
forever? Or at least a little longer?” I asked, sticking my bottom
lip out and giving her the puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t do that. How can I possibly say no to the f***ing puppy dog
eyes? Of course I’ll stick around. I don’t think my husband will let
me stay forever, but a few more minutes won’t hurt,” she answered.

Tenting my fingers, I did my best Mr. Burns impression “Excellent.
Now if I can just find some way to brainwash your husband into
thinking that you staying here forever would be a good thing, then
I’d be set.”

As the song started, I pushed the headphones back off my ears and
said “I’m only allowed to play this song because I bribed Kenny. I
told him he could fire Matt, but don’t tell Matt, he doesn’t know
yet.”

“Hey, I thought we were a team. She comes in and you’re ready to
fire me?” Matt asked.

“I’d sell you out for Vanessa Carlton, and Liz is like 4 Vanessas
put together. I’d sell out my own mom for her. If she asked me to
kill, I’d ask who, when, where, and how many bullets do you want in
the body.” Turning to Liz, I said “Seriously though, I didn’t even
know you were going to be here today until I walked in. I came in
and Kenny said ‘oh yeah, Liz Phair will be here.’ Kenny’s not really
known for jokes, but I thought he was pulling an April Fool’s Day
joke two months late. I stopped dead in my tracks and was like ‘say
what?’ Turns out that he booked you as an early birthday present for
me. Isn’t that the greatest boss ever?”

“When’s your birthday?” She asked.

“June 30th. I officially hit the mid point of my twenties. Matt’s
promised to get me drunk so I can forget that I’ll be 25 and have
nothing to show for it.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘nothing’,” she pointed out. “I know for a fact that
you fucked Sheryl Crow last year, and I’ve heard the rumors about
you and Alyssa Milano. That’s more than rich guys get, so you must
be doing something right.”

“The thing about Alyssa isn’t true, but how you’d know…” I started
to say.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Matt interrupted. “You nailed Sheryl Crow too?
How do you do it? Elisha Cuthbert, Michelle Branch, Avril, Jessica
Alba, and now Sheryl Crow? You must be an idiot savant with the
ladies.”

“He’s fucked all of them?” Liz asked Matt.

“Why are we discussing my sex life? I’m flattered that it’s that
important, but we should be talking about Liz’s sex life. She’s the
guest after all.”

“I have no sex life,” she said, honestly.

“There’s no way you’re not getting any,” I said. “I refuse to
believe that the woman who wrote ‘Flower’ doesn’t get it.”

“I’ve been busy with the new album. There’s a time for work, and
there’s a time to fuck. I’ve just been working lately,” she
shrugged.

As the last commercial ended, I turned the mics back on and said
“Welcome back to the show. We’re still joined by Liz Phair, who’s
new album comes out June 24th. We were talking about my birthday off
air, and I have to say that even though it was unintentional, your
new album being released less than a week before my birthday is the
best gift I could receive.”

“How about if I give you a copy now, would that ruin your birthday?”
She asked.

“If you sign it, then no. I’ll have to put the signed copy away to
look at, and then buy another copy to actually listen to,” I said.

Pulling one of her CDs out of her purse, she asked “Do you have a
pen or something? The CD is hot off the presses, so you’re one of
the first people to get a copy.”

“Uh, yeah, just a minute,” I said as I dug around for a marker.
Finding a black Sharpee under a stack of papers on the console, I
picked it up and handed it to her. “This is going on the shelf above
my computer so I can stare at it and remember the time I got to meet
you. The only thing that could even compare to this moment is the
time I got to meet Rob Zombie, but he’s nowhere near as good
looking.”

“I’ve never really seen myself as a sex symbol, but I f***ing hope
I’m prettier than Rob Zombie,” she joked, making me edit her once
more.

“Rob Zombie is my god, but you’re my goddess. You’ve yet to make a
song I don’t like, let alone an entire album. Part of me wishes
you’d get the respect you deserve, but the rest of me likes the idea
that you’re my own personal secret. I’d just get pissed if people
who wouldn’t give you the time of day suddenly decided you were the
greatest. The people like me who’ve been with you for years would
inevitably feel like we lost you. I’m probably sounding like a fan
boy, but I don’t care. That’s exactly what I am, and I’m unashamed
of it,” I said.

“You’re making me blush with the all this praise. I’m not used to
being talked to in such glowing terms,” she said, her cheeks turning
a light shade of red.

“You deserve it, now shall we do the Top 5?”

Rifling through the papers in front of her, she pulled out the right
one and said “Sure, anything special I should do?”

“Maybe lose some clothing,” I suggested. “Other than that, just read
the names as they come up.”

Kicking off her sandals, she set them on the console and said “There,
I took something off for you. Honorable Mention goes to Dido.”

“Anything else you want to take off? By the way, today’s list is the
Top 5 Lilith Fair Veterans,” I clarified. “I love Dido. Great mix of
electronica, pop, and songs about lost love. Plus she gets bonus
points for being used in an Eminem song. When Slim Shady uses your
song, you know you did something right.”

“Maybe I’ll take something more off later,” she answered coyly.
“Number 5 is Jewel.”

“I wasn’t a big fan of ‘Pieces Of You,’ but her last couple albums
have been good,” I said. “She’s done something a little different on
each one. ‘Pieces’ was very folksy with just her and her guitar, the
second one was a little slicker and more layered, and then the last
one had more of a country flavor to it. I haven’t gotten a chance to
hear the latest one, but ‘Intuition’ has some beats behind it that
are sure to sell to the kids.”

“Number 4 is Fiona Apple.”

“If you like Vanessa Carlton, then you have to love Fiona. It’s a
law, and I enforce it vigorously. People say that Vanessa is today’s
Sarah McLachlan, but they’re dead wrong. She’s today’s Fiona Apple,
with her cute looks and piano playing. Fiona was a little angrier,
but they’re both along the same lines. The first time I heard
Shadowboxer, I knew that Fiona was going to be a name I’d be hearing
more of,” I said. “I just thought it’d be for more than a few
months. What a shame it was that her second album never got the
chance to shine.”

“Number 3 is Sheryl Crow. She’s a great friend, and I already know
that you know her quite well,” she said, giving me a wink.

“Yeah, I’ve met her a couple times,” I said, shooting her a look.
“Sheryl’s one of the best female singer songwriter of the last
decade. She can write songs with an angry edge like ‘If It Makes You
Happy,’ or she can write a hook that you can drive a truck through
like the one in ‘My Favorite Mistake.’ Speaking of you two being
friends, you did backing vocals on ‘Soak Up The Sun,’ didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I was playing basketball outside her studio. She brought me
in and told me sing backup just so she could record without having
the ball bouncing off the wall,” she answered.

“I never get tired of that story. Two of my favorites recording
together because of a basketball. Makes me want to station you
outside of every studio there is just for the chance you might
collaborate with some of my other favorites,” I said.

“Let me know when the Rolling Stones are doing their next album and
I’ll be there,” she said, nodding her head.

“Liz and the Stones, now that would be something worth listening to.
I’m probably the only one that would buy it, but I’m used to liking
strange things,” I joked.

“Number 2 is Sarah McLachlan.”

“The lady responsible for Lilith Fair. My fondest memory of Sarah
was when I was probably 15 or 16. I was on vacation in Seattle with
my parents, walking through Pike’s Market and one of the booths had
the radio on. I walked by and Hold On was playing. I immediately
went out and bought the Fumbling Towards Ecstasy CD and spent the
rest of the vacation listening to it. It was one of the few CDs that
was able to crack the Black Sabbath-AC/DC rotation I had going at
the time. Go from Paranoid to Back In Black to Exile In Guyville to
Fumbling Towards Ecstasy. And people have the gall to say I’m
musically schizophrenic. That was even before Mandy Moore and
Martina McBride entered my vocabulary. I switch gears pretty
quickly, heavy then soft, then merely loud,” I said with a smile.

“Number 1 is Liz Phair. There you go again making me blush.”

“When ‘Never Said,’ ‘Stratford On Guy,’ ‘Supernova,’ ‘Jealousy,’ and
‘Polyester Bride’ all rank among my favorite songs, I couldn’t
justify making you anything but number 1. No one can touch you,
especially after you titled a song ‘F*** And Run,'” I said, bleeping
myself. “The list of songs goes on and on. ‘Flower,’ ‘6’1″,’ ‘Go
West,’ ‘Chopsticks,’ ‘Headache,’ ‘What Makes You Happy,’ ‘Baby Got
Going.’ Everyone has that one artist that speaks directly to them.
For me, that person is you.”

“You certainly seem to know my music quite well.”

“I even bought Juvenilia, even though it was a glorified single for
Jealousy. The only thing I don’t have are the Girly Sounds tapes. I
saw them once and didn’t buy them. I’ve regretted it every day
since,” I said, hanging my head in shame.

“Don’t worry, it was originally a demo. I only made two copies
originally, but I’ve still got the originals laying around at home.
I guess I could hook you up,” she offered.

“Oh shit, thanks,” I said, forgetting that I was on the air. Turning
to Matt, I asked “Uh, did you manage to dump that before it went
out?”

“Yeah, I got it. It would’ve been funny to see Kenny come running in
here throwing a fit because you dropped the ‘S’ word like that
though,” he said, giving me a bad time.

“Hey, when Christina Aguilera comes in here and hooks you up with
extremely rare material, I’ll laugh when you do worse than say
‘s***’,” I told him, making sure to bleep myself this time. “Where
was I again?”

“You were about to end the show,” he reminded me.

“Oh yeah. I want to thank Liz for coming in and putting up with me.
I want to give Kenny, the station manager, a HUGE thank you for
bringing the woman that got me through my teen years in for my
birthday. The show was produced today and every day by the god of
radio producers, Matt Miller. The final request of the day comes
from Bill in Orange County, who wants to hear ‘Are You Happy Now’
from Michelle Branch. Her CD comes out on June 24th as well. Yet
another reason I have that day marked on my calender with a big red
circle,” I said, signing off for the day.

Taking off her headphones, Liz asked “What kind of shit do you do in
this town for fun?”

“Well, there are lots of clubs where you can hear up and coming
bands. Matt and I like to find a dive bar and play pool. I suck at
pool, but it doesn’t stop me from spending the evening bouncing the
cue ball off the sides of the table without sinking a shot. Cheap
beer, smoky atmosphere, and a bad game of pool is my idea of a fun
time,” I offered.

“Sounds fun. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink,” she said, getting up.

Taking off my own headphones and hanging them from the microphone, I
stood up and said “You said the magic word.”

“What, ‘drink’?”

“No, ‘buy’,” I said, sticking my tongue out.

“Don’t show your tongue unless you plan on using it,” she quipped.

“I have no problem using it. You’d have to let me, but that’s only a
minor detail,” I quipped back.

“Don’t tempt me or I just might take you up on that,” she flirted,
turning her back and walking out of the studio. Stopping in the
doorway, she turned her head and asked “You fucking coming or what?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” I said, quickly mouthing a prayer to
any god that might be listening that wasn’t just teasing me.

“So, how’d you know about me and Sheryl?” I asked, lining up for a
shot. We were standing around a pool table, her sipping a beer.
Cigarette smoke hung in the air as patrons huddled around their
drinks and talked about work or sex or who was having sex at work.

“She told me,” Liz answered, matter of factly. Leaning on her stick,
she watched with amusement as I hit the cue ball into the corner
pocket. “You know, that white ball is supposed to stay on the table.
You’re supposed to hit it into the other balls and make the other
balls go into the pockets.”

“I know, I know,” I responded, taking the ribbing in stride. As she
pulled the cue ball out and put it back on the table, I continued
“She just told you? One day she said ‘I fucked this DJ in LA named
Richie,’ and that was it?”

“Something like that,” she answered idly as she made her shot,
knocking the ‘3’ ball into the side pocket. “Although, it was more
like ‘this guy Richie begged me to fuck him.’ Sheryl likes to fuck,
so I figured it was actually her doing the begging. All she’d tell
me is that it was a DJ in LA, the name of the station, and that he
was pretty good. I was just guessing that you were the DJ, but I
seem to be right.”

As she lined up her next shot, I asked “Only pretty good? Not
spectacular? I’d even settle for amazing. And to think I used my
Altoid trick on her too.”

Lifting her head up, she looked at me and asked “Altoid trick? She
didn’t tell me about that.”

“It’s an oral sex trick I learned from an old lover,” I explained.
“When you’re getting ready to go downtown, you pop an Altoid or some
other breath mint into your mouth. Then you use the mint as an
extension of your tongue. It works twofold. You get a new texture
pressing on the woman’s clit, and the coolness of the mint rubs off
as well. The chick who taught it to me was a few years older than me
and quite adventurous, so she knew some tricks that I have yet to
come across anywhere but in her bed. She also taught me the
advantages of feathers and drinking straws too. I don’t know where
I’d be without her.”

Looking at her face, I got the suspicion that she was trying to
think of what a breath mint would feel like down there. When she
missed her next shot by a good six inches, my suspicion was
confirmed. Trying to pass the bad shot off, she said “I think the
table moved. That should be a do over.”

“The table didn’t move, and you don’t get another shot. Even if
there was an earthquake, we’re playing California rules. California
rules state that unless you have to take cover under the table to
get away from falling rubble, then it wasn’t a real earthquake,” I
explained.

“Fine, but we both know I’m going to win anyway. You might as well
quit and just buy the next round now like the bet said,” she said,
smirking smugly.

“You seem confident. Want to make the bet more interesting?” I
asked, leaning down to eye my next shot.

“You haven’t sunk a single ball tonight,” she pointed out.
Shrugging, she said “It’s your money, what are the stakes?”

“If I win, I get a blow job,” I suggested, staring right at her.

“What do I get if I win?” She asked.

“I’ll get you drunk and then get my blow job when you’re on the
verge of passing out. It may sound like I win either way, but you’d
really be the one getting the better end of the deal.”

She put her hands on her hips and fixed me with the kind of look
that only a mother can summon. The kind that shows great disapproval
and makes you want to apologize for playing with matches when you
were five.

“Get real. I’m surprised you didn’t ask me to fuck you in the
bathroom, because that might’ve worked,” she said, winking at me.

“Are you kidding? Have you seen the bathrooms in this place? I won’t
even take a crap in here, let alone get busy. If you win, I’ll buy
your drinks for the rest of the night,” I said, being serious.

“Drinks for the night against a blow job? Sounds fine to me since
you’ve got no chance of winning,” she teased.

Lining up my shot, I hit the cue ball and watched as it struck the
‘8’ ball. ‘Oh shit,’ I thought as the ‘8’ ball skittered across the
table, making it’s way toward the corner pocket. As it paused on the
lip of the pocket, I looked on in horror as it dropped over the
edge, ending the game.

“Tough luck there, kid,” Liz said, putting her hand on my shoulder,
“Now go get me another beer.”

Fighting the urge to snap the cue stick over my knee in frustration,
I gritted my teeth and nodded. Fuming over my absolute lack of pool
playing skill, I went to get a couple more beers.

Returning with a beer in each hand, I looked around and saw Liz had
taken a seat at a table near the table we had just been playing at.
Making my way over to her, I noticed that there was a tall, skinny
guy standing next to the table talking to Liz.

“Look, I’m not interested, so you might as well go find someone else
to try to pick up,” I heard her tell the guy when I was within
earshot.

“What, you think you’re too good?” He asked, getting upset.

Setting the beers down on the table, I told him “I believe the lady
said she wasn’t interested.”

“No one was talking to you pal,” he said, pushing my out of the way.

“You see, she’s my friend. If she says she’s not interested, then
she’s not interested pal,” I said.

“I told you to shut up, so you better shut it before I kick your
ass,” he threatened, standing toe to toe with me and towering over
me by a good 6 inches.

“I don’t think so,” I said as I brought my knee up into his groin.

“Oof,” he said as he bent over to grab his balls in pain. Grabbing
the back of his head, I brought it down as I brought my knee up into
his nose.

“Come on,” I said grabbing Liz by the arm and leading toward the
front door. “Lets get out of here before his friends figure out what
happened.”

“Why’d you hit him?” She asked when we were in my car heading away
from the bar.

“Sometimes violence is necessary,” I answered. “He wasn’t going to
leave you alone, and he would’ve hit me if I didn’t leave him alone
or strike first. The fact that he was bigger and probably stronger,
I had to strike first and then get out of there.”

Going quiet for a few minutes, she finally spoke up “Aren’t you
going to listen to your CD?”

“No, that one is going to stay in as close to mint condition as
possible,” I answered. “It’s going on my shelf with all my other
mementos.”

“What happened to wanting to listen to the CD?” She asked.

“I’ve already heard it. I bootlegged the songs off the net,” I
responded. “They can hold me over until I can go into a store and
buy a non-autographed copy.”

“That’s one of my fans for you,” she marveled, “they can never
wait.”

“I’ve waited five years, thank you very much,” I said, grinning.
“I’m still pissed that I couldn’t get your last album on the first
day. I went to the store and they hadn’t received their shipment
yet, so I had to wait til the next day. Going a whole day knowing
that there was a Liz Phair CD out there, that I hadn’t heard,
waiting for me to buy it was torture.”

“What’s another two weeks when you’ve already waited five years?”
She asked, using logic against me.

“I spent those five years waiting for it to become available. It
just happened to become available online first. I’ll buy a copy to
listen to when it’s officially released, but I couldn’t let the
songs sit out there without listening to them. Imagine being a
teenager in the ’70s, waiting for a new Rolling Stones album, and
then having a copy handed to you. Would you have said ‘no thanks,
I’ll wait til I can buy my own copy’? I don’t think so. You would’ve
taken that copy and listened to it in a heartbeat,” I challenged
her.

“You’re right,” she conceded. “I would’ve been in my room with it in
the stereo before the person giving it to me could blink.”

Pulling into the parking garage of her hotel, I said “Looks like
we’re here.”

As I pulled into a parking space, she opened the door and said
“Thanks for standing up for me back there. I still don’t think you
should have hit him like that, but you’re right about him not being
the type to give up.”

“It was nothing,” I said, blushing slightly.

“Well, then at least come up for a drink to thank you,” she offered
as she stepped out of the car.

“I thought I owed you the drinks for the night,” I said.

“You can pay for the tiny twenty dollar bottles of booze out of the
mini-bar if you want,” she said, smirking.

“Why don’t we stick to ten dollar coffee since I have to drive
home,” I said as I got out of the car.

“How about we combine the two, and have thirty dollar Irish coffee?”
She asked as I walked around the back of the car.

“You can put whiskey in your coffee if you want, but I think I’ll
stick to black coffee,” I said as we headed off in the direction of
the elevator.

“Spoil sport,” she said.

“I told you, I have to drive home. I’m probably on the edge of being
legally drunk right now with the couple beers we had at the bar,” I
pointed out as the elevator doors opened in front of us.

Stepping into the elevator, I walked to the back corner while she
stood up front by the panel with the buttons in it. When she pushed
the button to take us to her floor, the doors closed and the
elevator started moving.

“What if you didn’t have to drive home?” She asked out of the blue.

“What, you want me to call a cab and leave my car here?” I asked in
response.

“No, I mean don’t go home. You know the song ‘Love In An Elevator’?”
She asked, a wicked grin crossing her face.

“Yeah, it’s by Aerosmith, off the Pump album I believe. Why?” I
asked, not sure what direction the conversation was going.

Pushing the emergency stop button, the elevator came to a screeching
halt. Raising an eyebrow, she asked “Would you like to try it?”

“You want to have sex in an elevator?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“I’ve always wanted to try it, but have never had the chance,” she
answered, a twinkle glimmering in the corner of one eye.

“What about your husband?”

“He’s not into this kind of thing,” she said, not quite answering
the right question.

“I was asking about what your husband might think of you having sex
with another guy, and not why you haven’t fucked him in an
elevator,” I clarified.

“We’re divorced,” she responded. “For as biga fan as you are, you
sure missed a pretty big detail.”

“Divorced?” I asked, not quite believing.

“Yeah, it just wasn’t working out,” she answered coolly.

“So you’re single and there’s no way he’s going to pissed about me
fucking his ex-wife?” I asked cautiously.

“Nope, now are we going to do this or am I going to have to turn the
elevator back on?” She asked, pulling her skirt up slightly.

Mesmerized by the rising skirt and the increasing amount of thigh
being shown to me, all I could do was stammer “OK.”

“OK, what? OK, lets fuck? Or OK, turn the elevator back on?” She
asked as her skirt reached the bottom of her panties. As she
continued to pull her skirt up to her waist, I was greeted by the
sight of her midnight blue panties.

“Fuck,” I answered, still enthralled by the little peep show I was
being treated to.

“That’s more like it, now come over here,” she commanded as she
kicked off her sandals.

As I made the few feet across the elevator, she turned around and
hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. Bending over
in front of me, she stuck her ass up the air as she pulled her
panties down to her ankles. Standing up, she stepped one foot out of
her underwear. Turning around, she hooked them on her other foot.
Lifting the other foot up, she grabbed her panties with her hand.

“That was a great show,” I said, unable to take my eyes off the
landing strip adorning the top of her pussy.

“Got any of those Altoids on you?” She asked, cocking her head to
one side and raising an eyebrow.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a tin of spearmint Altoids and
held them up to her. Shaking the tin so she could hear the mints
rattle around inside, I said “I never leave home without them. You
never know when you’re going to have something with garlic in it for
lunch.”

“Up for using that trick you were telling me about?” She asked.

Opening the tin, I pulled one out and said “Just try and stop me.”

As I popped the mint into my mouth, she grinned and lifted her right
leg. As the minty taste of the Altoid washed over my tongue, I
dropped to my knees in front of her as she put her foot on the metal
railing running along the wall of the elevator. Starting at her
knees, I ran my hands along the inside of her leg. When my hands met
at the vee where her pussy sits, I used my thumbs to spread the lips
apart. Seeing her juices already starting to glisten in the poor
lighting of the elevator car, I blew a gentle stream of air across
her hole.

“Eek,” she squealed as the air hit her.

Taking the time to study the way the pink walls of her pussy
undulated and clenched at the air, I slowly slid my tongue out of my
mouth. With the Altoid poised on the tip of my tongue, I ran it
along the inside of her pussy lips.

“Ooh, I can see what you mean,” she said as she felt the minty
coolness rubbing off on her.

Looking up at her, I could see that she had eyes half closed as she
held onto the railing. Working my tongue up, the Altoid made contact
with her exposed clit causing her to jump slightly. Rubbing the mint
on her bud, I slipped a finger into increasingly wet hole. Sucking
her clit into my mouth, I used my tongue to swirl the mint around
it.

“Mmmm,” she purred quietly.

Wiggling my finger in her box, I must have hit the right spot
because she bucked her hips and let out low groan. Adding a second
finger, I began wiggling them looking for that spot again. Not quite
able to locate it, I started to slide my fingers in and out of her
snatch.

“Yeah, finger fuck my cunt,” she encouraged me.

Sliding my fingers in and out faster, I increased the suction on her
clit. Feeling her hips start to gyrate at my actions, I pulled
everything off of her. Picking the Altoid off my tongue, I put it on
the tip of my finger and used my finger to manipulate her clit.
Dropping my mouth lower, I let my tongue take the place that my
fingers had just occupied. Lapping away at her cunt, I rewarded with
a fresh flood of pussy juice.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she moaned, her breath coming in ragged gasps as I
worked my magic. “I’m fucking cumming.”

“Cum for me,” I told her. “Cum on my fucking tongue.”

“Yes, cumming,” she said, biting her lip to quiet herself.

Grabbing the back of my head, she shoved my face into her snatch.
Arching her back, she brought her leg down off the railing and
draped it over my shoulder. Sticking my tongue out as far as it
would go, I began tongue fucking her hole.

“Fuck,” she screamed as she reached her climax. She threw her head
back and pulled me in even tighter as my face was being covered in
her girl cum.

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” I asked, standing up when
the shudders in her cunt had ceased.

Opening her eyes, she responded “Dear god was that great. I thought
you were blowing smoke up my ass about the breath mints, but I’m
glad you weren’t.”

“I wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass,” I said, a faux hurt look on my
face. “I might put something up your ass, but it sure as hell
wouldn’t be smoke.”

“Dirty boy, talking about fucking me in the ass,” she said. Winking,
she continued “I’d let you, but my husband likes being the only one
allowed there. No anal is part of our deal.”

“Oh well, there are other holes to fill,” I said, breaking into a
grin as I tossed the half dissolved Altoid into the corner.

“Speaking of which, one of them is calling for you now,” she said,
lowering her eyes to look at her cunt.

Not wasting any time, I started tugging at me belt. When it wouldn’t
come undone right away, the frustration started to kick in. Looking
at her standing there with her skirt around her waist and her naked
beaver staring at me, I was getting eager to get my wet somewhere.

“Here, let me help you,” she said, seeing me struggling with my
belt.

With a quick flip of her wrist, she had my belt undone and pulled it
out. As she dropped it on the floor in front of me, I was left
staring at her in wonder at the way she had gotten it off so
quickly. Before I could even react, she had my pants unbuttoned and
my zipper halfway down. Kicking my shoes off, I helped her pull my
pants down to my ankles. Deciding to give her a show like she gave
me, I took a step back and turned around to pull my boxers down.

“Woohoo,” she whooped it up as my ass came into view. Slapping me on
the ass, she said “Nice butt.”

“Thanks,” I said, kicking my boxers off to the side as I rubbed the
spot on my ass that she had just whacked.

As I turned around, she let out a low whistle at the sight of my
hard cock. Nodding approvingly, she said “Looks like I picked a
winner.”

Blushing at the comment, I said “Just wait til you see how well I
use it.”

“Come on and fuck me then,” she demanded.

Not being one to keep a lady waiting, I stepped forward. Pulling her
shirt up so her bra encased tits came into view, I pulled the cups
down and watched her tits spring out of them. Leaning my head down
to suck on one of her nipples, she wrapped her arms around my neck
and literally jumped onto me. Wrapping her legs around my waist, I
could feel the warmth of her cunt radiating out as it pressed
against my trapped cock. Grabbing her ass, I lifter her enough to
free my cock from between us.

“Stick it in me,” she commanded as she felt the head of my cock
searching for the right hole.

Seeing that my cock wasn’t going to suddenly find it on it’s own, I
reached down and grabbed it by the base. Finding her opening, I
lowered her onto my staff. As she bottomed out, we both out let out
a grunt of satisfaction. She wasn’t the tightest woman I’d fuck by a
long shot, but I was too turned on by the fact that I was fucking my
idol to really care. Pressing her against the wall of the elevator,
I let her ass rest on the metal railing as I started my withdrawal.
When I was about halfway out, I thrust back into her.

“Fuck me,” she said, trying to spur me on.

Still sucking on the nipple, I gave it a little bite to see her
reaction. When she moaned, I bit it a little harder and pulled my
head back until it popped out from between my teeth.

“Yeah, bite my tits,” she said as she flexed her cunt muscles around
my cock.

Not wanting to get too rough, I continued to build up speed on my
thrusts as she begged me to bite her nipples. Her moans were
starting to echo off the walls when a phone started ringing. The
sound was almost lost in the cacophony of moans and the squishy
sounds of my cock sliding in and out of her cunt.

“Is that your phone?” She asked when she finally heard it.

“No, my phone has ‘Smoke On The Water’ as the ringtone,” I answered,
slowing down my thrusts.

“Don’t even think of stopping, asshole,” she said as she looked
around for the source of the ringing.

“I think it’s the elevator phone,” I told her as I resumed fucking
her.

Opening a door in the panel with the buttons, she pulled out a red
phone. Holding it up to her ear, she asked “Hello?”

Once again I started to slow down so she could talk to the person on
the phone. This time, she shook her head and grabbed my ass with her
free hand. Taking that as a sign to keep going, I shrugged and
really started to give it to her.

“Yeah, the elevator stopped on us,” she said.

Not being able to hear the other end of the conversation, I assumed
that whoever on the other line was wondering if we were stuck.

“We’ve been here… uhh, 15 minutes, maybe a… uhh, half hour,” she
said, moaning each time I shoved my cock into her. “I pushed the
emergency… uhh, stop button just in case it… uhh, started to
fall.”

Getting turned on by fucking her while she talked to some
maintenance guy, I reached up and grabbed her hair. When I pulled on
it, she opened her mouth to scream. Biting her shoulder to stifle
the scream instead, she was caught unaware by the next tug on her
hair.

“Oww, uhh, I’m just a little nervous about… uh, being in the
elevator is… uhh, all,” she said, trying to cover for her moans.

Feeling her juices start to flow even more, I could tell that she
was as turned on by the situation as I was. With my other hand, I
reached down between us and managed to get my middle finger on her
clit.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned as I rubbed her most sensitive part. Suddenly
remembering that she was on the phone, she said “Sorry, I… uhh,
thought I felt the elevator start to drop.”

Leaning in so that my mouth was next to her ear, I whispered “I want
you to cum all over my fat cock.”

“Oh yeah,” she moaned. Talking into the phone she said “I’m so glad
to hear that you’ll have us out of here in a few minutes. Thanks…
uhh, for your help.”

Hanging up the phone, she was finally able to let everything go.
Instead of moaning, she was now screaming as I impaled her on my
cock.

“Are you going to cum for me?” I asked as she started to close her
eyes.

“Yeah. Gonna cum. Cum on your cock,” she said, reduced to using
sentence fragments.

Feeling sweat forming on my brow from the exertion, I lifted my arm
to wipe it away before it could drip into my eyes. Looking down, I
could see a similar sheen of perspiration glistening on the skin of
her breasts and stomach. The light above flickered as I felt my
balls start to tighten up.

“I don’t know how long I can hold it off,” I told her. “You better
hurry up.”

“I’m there,” she screamed into my neck as she raked her fingernails
across my back.

Feeling her cunt clamp down on my member and start to milk it, I
asked “Where do you want it?”

“Cum in me. I want to feel you cum in me,” she answered, quickly
losing herself in her orgasm.

Thrusting myself into her one final time, I threw my head back and
groaned as every muscle in my body tightened up. Feeling my jizz
shooting out of my cock, she moaned even more as it coated the walls
of her pussy.

“Wow, that was good,” she said, when she came down from her orgasmic
high.

“Ow, ow,” I said as a charley horse developed in the back of my
right calf.

“What’s wrong,” she asked as I pulled out of her.

“Muscle tightened up on me,” I said, leaning down to massage the
back of my leg.

“Experience tells me that only happens during a good orgasm,” she
said.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” I said. Pulling my boxers back
on, I continued “Well, maybe you do. Are all thirty-five year old
women as good as you?”

“I’m thirty-six, and I doubt it. I’ve done a lot over the years, and
have figured out a lot of stuff that most women never get,” she
answered as she pulled her skirt back down.

“I guess I should be going home,” I said as I pulled my pants on.

“You’re not coming back to my room? I thought we were going to have
coffee,” she said as she put her tits back in her bra and pulled her
shirt down.

“Just coffee, or coffee with more of what we just did?” I asked as I
pulled my shirt on.

“You still haven’t experienced the patented Liz Phair blow job, so
I’d say there’s more of this if you want it,” she answered as she
pulled the emergency stop button.

Slipping my shoes on as the elevator sprang to life, I said “I guess
we’re off to your room then.”

“I plan on keeping you up all night,” she said as the elevator
neared her floor.

“Here you go,” I said as I picked her panties up off the floor and
handed them to her.

“Keep them. Think of it as a memento of the time you got to do more
than meet your idol,” she said, giving me a wink as the elevator
doors opened.

Tucking them in the pocket of my pants, I shrugged and followed her
to her room.

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