Let's Spend the Night Together: Backstage Secrets of Rock Muses and Supergroupies (52 page)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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