Chapter 1: Tommy :: Narrative
She lived next door in the Bungalow, her bedroom window right across from mine. And dude was it a view. I mean, she wasn't hard on the eyes that's for sure. Blondes have always been my type, but that didn't stop me from staring at the busty brunette time-again-time again.
A preacher's daughter, she was the living definition of everything I wasn't. Pure, patient, elegant -- fuck, I was a thunderstorm and she was a ray of sunshine. We lived in separate worlds divided by a white picket fence.
But when I saw the sin that she was hiding from dear-old-dad, our worlds collided. And at that point, I knew there was no keeping her from Mötley Crüe.
Chapter 2: The Name of the Game was Sin
Tommy comes home from a night he would never forget only to find his neighbor sneaking in after a night spent on the Sunset Strip. The drummer gets to see his own private show from his bedroom window.
Stumbling into the darkness of his bedroom, feet tripped over dirty clothes and toes stubbed against rigid furniture. His head was a merry go round, spinning fast and set ablaze with lights and sound. Tommy Lee wasn't high - not in the traditional sense of the word - no drugs, or even alcohol shot through his veins. He was high on life, and there was no coming down.
If you were to have asked him how he thought his night was gonna go before walking out the door in his sister tight leopard print pants, Tommy's answer would be limited: rock out to London, catch a bite, and if he was lucky to get to third base. Never would he had thought that he would meet Nikki-fucking-Sixx. A hand came up to his own face, sending an open palmed strike to his cheek. This was reality. Mere hours ago he was sitting across from the London bassist, watching his guzzle down Jack Daniels. Their final discussion: starting a fucking band.
Hands reached over his head, first taking the cotton of his bright yellow t-shirt and pulling it from his slim frame. His hair was sent in tangles in front of his face, quickly blown out of the way with a huff of his hair from between his lips. His head shook, trying to pick out one of his thoughts as they ran a marathon in his brain. I'm going to be in a band with Nikki Sixx, was all he could muster. With the success of London - and their inevitable downfall - the guy was already a fucking rock star in his books. And now he got to rock with him.
Standing at his window his hands came up to rest on his hips and lips split in a shit-eating-grin. Sure, his date had ended early and he hadn't gotten to romp with her in the back of his van but there was no shaking his satisfaction. Ready to crawl into bed, hands reached down to the button his pants and pushed it free. It was when he was fighting the leopard print down his legs that a flash of light from across the lawn caught his eye. Curious, he stepped towards his window, pushing the curtain aside to get a better view of the bungalow next door.
They had a motion sensor light positioned over their back door. On occasion a stray cat or raccoon digging through their trash cans would set them off, lighting up their freshly mowed lawn. Hazel hues couldn't focus on just one spot, jumping from the fence to the back door and finding nothing. The search was not one worth wasting time over, and he was quick to retreat. That was until a shadow was cast long and black over stubby blades of grass. At first, he squinted as if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Is that her? -- No, it couldn't be. He was wrong.
His family lived next door to a preacher and his picture-perfect family. They were in each other's good graces, trading pies during the holidays and contributing to the neighborly gossip with brunch on the weekends. They had two kids, but Tommy knew better then to mess with bible-thumpers - even if they grew up together, their only division the white picket fence that drew the line through their backyards. That didn't stop his eye from wondering over their daughter when they passed by each other in the halls at school - when he happened to show up that is. Her name was Delaney, and they had the same homeroom. She sat in the front row, greeting everyone with her warm brown eyes and a perfect smile. While she was often dressed conservatively, her ample bust concealed by high necklines and legs clad with denim, the curves of her body were clear to any man who dares to look. She was forbidden fruit and his mouth watered, craving to take a bite.
And there she was, crouched down along the shrubs that lined the back of the bungalow. But, Tommy had never seen her this way before. He was sure that the clothes she dawned in the darkness were not from her closet. Skin, he could see so much skin, and it had him pressed against the window for more. A little black dress threatened to expose more than her legs to the night as her petite form crawled to the window across from his, just a floor lower, her bedroom window.
Tommy ducked as if she could see him in the solitude of his room. His heart pounded hard in his chest at the thought of someone so innocent she was sneaking in after curfew. She had probably told daddy that she was studying at a friend's place, yet, there she was sneaking home from the Sunset Strip.
She had left her bedroom window unlocked, hoisting herself in through the narrow frame before settling down on the floor. There she kicking off her pumps and crawled over the lamp to set her room alight with its glow.
Across the way, Tommy could see everything from the posters that lined her walls to neatly made bed centered in her room. He should have looked away, but curiosity was getting the best of him. He wanted to look at every poster that concealed the pale pink-flowered wallpaper, delve into the music she enjoyed and the Hollywood heartthrobs she yearned for. It was just above her bed he spotted a poster that was all too familiar to the drummer, he had the same one on his wall. London. He didn't want to believe that a girl like her would rock to a bad like that -- but what they said was true: good girls wanted bad boys.
He should have looked away when he saw the tight spandex of her dress hit the floor, but how could he look away when things could only get better? Tommy was much more than satisfied when he found that there was nothing underneath - it left his eyes bugging out of their sockets. Fuck, she was heavenly. Her curves were killer, with a narrow waist and thick thighs Tommy had to bite his lips to hold back a groan. He was never one for brunettes, but her body was rocking. He watched as she crawled - a cat on the prowl - up into the comfort of her bed, her eyes honed in on the London poster and what happened next Tommy couldn't believe.
He watched as she sprawled out onto the mattress, her hands groping full breasts before traveling down over her flat stomach. Then, they went even further. There was no stopping the bulge from growing in the pants he had yet to completely rid himself of. He grimaced at the fact that they were his sister's pants and they quickly found their place on the floor. Feet kicked at the fabric until they had found their place with the rest of his soiled clothes. Eager eyes found his neighbors bedroom window just in time to watch as her fingers found the sensitive bundle between her legs.
Hands calloused from hours of handling drumsticks found his impatient cock, giving it a long stroke. It was nothing compared to the warm embrace of pussy around him, but the view was close enough. Besides, this was just the icing on top of his night. An arm reached out, bracing himself against the window as he worked himself in his hands. Dark eyes watched as her legs came together around her own hand. She had cum staring at the band poster above the bed, and he came watching her do it.
Wiping his hand off on a dirty t-shirt, a bit of a laugh playing on his tongue. He couldn't fucking wait to tell Nikki about this. How his neighbor had gotten off to his picture -- but as he lay down in bed, his half-hard cock resting against his thigh Tommy decided that he would keep his own actions a secret.
Chapter 3: Nikki :: Narrative
When Tommy had met me at the apartment that would later be known as the Motley House on Sunset, I don't know what he was more excited about; The fact that he was starting a band with me, or that he had caught his neighbor touching herself after a night on the Sunset Strip.
Until then, I had never seen myself as a sex symbol. I had always been that dark, fucked up kid trying to rock their way to the top. Even with the success of London, girls paled in comparison to the desire for fame. There was always another song to be written, and new bandmates to seek out.
But when Motley Crue conquered the Sunset Strip, there was no stopping the good girl from climbing through our window -- and you know what they say about good girls, the love bad boys.