I will do the whole band. First, the sixteen-year-old drummer must be had.

I had never slept with a sixteen-year-old boy. But tonight I was gonna do it. Nickky was Kid Ego’s
drummer. His face looked like it had been carbon-copied from a photo of a teenage Jim Morrison, and
he played drums like Tommy Lee. He was a miniature miracle, and everyone stared gape-jawed when he
played.

Rookie, the eighteen-year-old bassist, like so many male rockstar wannabes on the planet, used the
Nikki Sixx formula to create his image. Zakk, the lead singer, also eighteen, was a bit tubby—he looked
more like he had shouted at the donut than the devil—but his voice was magnificent when he belted
out their sleazy rock numbers. And there were two others: Phil, with dreadlocks, and Birdy, a dirty,
nasty, sleazy, hot motherfucker.

Their songs were volcanic, and swung me to roller-coaster heights. They were playing Cardiff, and even
though Cardiff was bleak in my memory—all grayness, dirt, fucking, and seizure—I went there alone. I
was nervous as a rabbit, and felt as if my knees had been sucked hollow. My bones were like tea
biscuits, ready to snap. I hoped this time Cardiff would be kinder to me.

The Barfly, proud owner of the sallow and constipated, repulsed me, as it had before. I entered the
minute back room with Kid Ego and their support band. It was full of the evil drink, and although I’d
promised myself I’d stay away, I smuggled swigs of whiskey into my mouth. A photographer snapped
away with deft precision—capturing me with ten boys full of raging hormones and unruly erections, all
wanting to put their teenage, throbbing, quivering willies in me and suck my boobies, which they
proceeded to do.

The young girl fans, all milky and full of stripy tights and Kerrang! posters, didn’t even try to enter the
room; instead, they just peeked in and saw me getting my breasts sucked and my body mauled by all ten
boys. It must have looked like a cat with a litter of kittens. Then, in one swift motion, the band’s
manager slammed the door shut and all the boys gathered around, with me standing in the middle. With
the sixteen-year-old drummer Nickky helping me, I unzipped and stripped off the remainder of my
clothes. I took off my panties and stood there in my high heels. I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to take
on ten teenage boys.

Kid Ego, their support band, and I were taken by van to their hotel. I was surprised to find it was the
same hotel I’d been in nine months earlier with Towers. Was it compulsory for me to do whole
bands in this hotel? I saw the receptionist and wondered whether she recognized me with my clothes
on. I was sure she hadn’t forgotten the smell of congealed vomit and sperm and red perfume I’d left
behind last time, and was still furious at the degree of my obscenity. But she looked at me with a
motherly tenderness and addressed me with a knowing smile.

And I loved it. I loved it. I loved it.

We went to a room where one of the guys from the opening act was staying. I felt seventeen, shy but
omnipotent. I was one girl in a room with ten boys—sweaty and unpredictable, hormonebuckled and
leather-clad young boys. I was kind of scared, though I shouldn’t have been. Both the bands were
crammed into the room, impossibly wanting, waiting for something to happen.
I felt like I should start something, maybe fireworks and a show. I was the only girl. I felt as though I was
in a desert at midnight with a group of Arabian smugglers. I suddenly became protective of my body, my
womb, my femininity, as if it were in danger of being tainted. I folded my arms over my breasts and
crossed my legs as my skimpy clothes clung to my body.

After a few minutes, though, I got bored. And I realized: these weren’t Hell’s Angels. They were just
teenage English boys with tankfuls of sperm. And I could have any one of them. A gleam singed my eyes.
I could choose whoever the fuck I wanted.

I thought. I decided. Tonight, I would do the whole band.

But before I did that, I did something nasty. I left the room to walk around for a minute—and got laid by
one of the guys from the support band. He was cute, and horny as hell. But in my gut, a spew began to
rise, produced by a rule embedded in my brain: Never fuck anyone from the support band.

We’d gone to his room, and when we were done I left him to go find Kid Ego and he walked off into the
Cardiff streets to find a low-rent prostitute to administer things I wasn’t capable of.

“The support band, Roxie!?” the Kid Ego boys sniggered when I entered the room. I hung my head in
shame.

The lights were low, and as the boys taunted me, I started to play with Birdy. His loyalty to his girlfriend
made him even hotter. I made him sit on the bed, and I sat in front of him and opened my legs as the
others watched.

“Fuck, I can’t,” he said. “I really want to . . .” He looked pained, torn between loyalty to his girlfriend and
my open naked body spread in front of him. “You’re a fucking fag, Birdy,” the others jeered from all
directions. Birdy looked at me, aching desire dripping off his face, and tried not to cry.

I was cruel. How could I do this to someone who’d heroically managed to remain Super Glued to his love
despite the hordes of girls chasing him every night?

“I’m so sorry,” he said, crushed. I left him lying there, and went with Zakk, Rookie, and Nickky to their
room of fun. Once inside, the boys ripped off my clothes in seconds.

“Do you think she’s ready for us?” Zakk asked, way too confident for his age.

I felt all giddy. Should I be acting more responsibly? If I were a man with three teenage girls, I’d be in
heaven. Fuck it, I thought. I’m a legend. My reputation in rock precedes me.

First, Nickky must be had. He was a wasted, staggering child. I took him to the bed and climbed under
the sheets with him. I must be gentle, I thought. I don’t want to scare him.

But he was dirty as hell. His fingers and tongue were everywhere, like a young, wild jackal. As Zakk and
Rookie watched from the other bed, I slipped Nickky’s cock in me. He thrusted a few times and came.

I threw the condom aside and opened myself like cake for Zakk and Rookie.
Zakk took me doggy style, penetrating me anally while Rookie fucked me so good that I took Nickky’s
cock in my mouth. Three childhood friends. They will never forget me. We fell into a sweet sleep: them
dreaming of Mum’s cooking up north and me having had my fill of three young boys.

Excerpt from The Last Living Slut by Roxana Shirazi

© 2010 Igniter Literary Group and It Books / HarperCollinsPublishers
www.IgniterBooks.com / www.YourItList.com