Ch. 1: Pretty Tied Up

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God, I love women.

I love every curve, every teasing glance, every lustful giggle, every breathless moan. Some might say it's because I'm a horndog, that I objectify and sexualize women. A misogynist by all accounts. I say it's because women are sin embodied. Blazing, ruthless, sexual beings that certainly were not made that way by me (though I'll gladly thank whichever mystic being who made this so).

Even the shy ones, if you are ever lucky enough to bed one, are like watching a kamikaze in motion. A slow descent into lust just before crashing into a blazing ball of unadulterated, animalistic instinct.

A shy girl, a good girl, that was the ultimate prize. So eager were they to act all prude and innocent, to actually fuck one of them was like taking home the gold at the Olympics. It was something us men could really beat our chests to, a story told for years to come. But tonight, I hadn't gotten so lucky.

She was your average groupie, and had probably already spread her legs to a few of my band mates before she had even stumbled upon me-or, at the very least, had taken them into her mouth. Probably already fucked Axl, since he was the singer and girls always chased the main attraction. She might have sucked off Duff on the way to meet me. He was tall and handsome with wavy, golden hair. He was the perfect amount of chill and over-the-top, which made him a total riot to be around. Then, if she hadn't tried her luck with Dizzy, she must have finally stumbled over to where she had found me by the bar.

Though I was no Axl Rose by any means, I was starting to become a celebrity in my own right. Fingering a guitar even better than I fingered pussy, and wrapping up my look with an iconic top hat, people were starting to recognize me perhaps even easier than they recognized Axl. I was so damn cool, I didn't even need a last name. I had a nickname with enough power and enough mystery to only need a single syllable: Slash.

At one point, I had been Saul Hudson, an average Joe living a not so average life. Both of my parents had been artists and had gotten to work closely with many of the big names of the industry, some of which I had been lucky enough to meet. But the real life-changer was moving to LA, where I met my best friend Steven Adler and fell in love with rock n'roll.

A few years later, Steven and I are now both in a band called Guns N'Roses where we play plenty of rock n'roll for hoards of hot, young bodies. It was in this band where my silly little nickname soon became so much more. It was an embodiment of who I was, as a man, as a celebrity, and as a guitarist. Nobody cared about Saul Hudson, not even Saul Hudson. I much preferred Slash. After all, he was the reason I was here, whiskey in one hand and a girl in the other.

Slash made life good. Slash made life wild, fun, everything I had ever wished it could be. Slash was the embodiment of rock n'roll, and Saul was more than happy to hitch a ride on Slash's coat tails.

"Wake up." And then there was a fist in my ribs. Nothing too painful, but certainly a punch with enough force to earn a grunt. Instinctively, I began to lift myself off of the bed, only to be tugged right back down by my wrist.

"I said 'wake up', not 'get up'," Axl's voice was teasing.

Despite the killer hangover I was battling, I forced my eyes open long enough to squint up at Axl. The singer towered over me, his elbows digging into the mattress as he leaned into it for support. He was grinning down at me with a look of amusement on his face, obviously getting a kick out of finding me in this state.

I might have been annoyed with the fact that he was finding pleasure from my pain, but I think I was more or less just thankful that he was in a good mood today. That usually meant that the rest of us were going to have a pretty decent day too.

"Shit..." I grumbled, dropping my head in the hopes that my veil of curls would protect me from the sunlight. "What's happening?"

Axl chuckled. "Well, we were just about to head back out on the road and we were really hoping you'd join us. But it seems you're pretty tied up at the moment..."

Off in the distance, I heard some rustling and crashing sounds just as Steven yelled out "Don't worry Slash, I'll find that key!"

"Key?" I had no clue what the two of them were on about.

"The key to the handcuffs," Axl clarified.

And that was when it hit me. The reason why I couldn't move, why I was 'pretty tied up at the moment', and why Steven was rummaging around for keys. I turned towards the bed frame to see that my right wrist had been bound to the headboard by a single pair of fuzzy handcuffs.

Why did this always end up happening to me?

"Ah, shit..." I hissed, running my free hand through my hair in frustration.

"And don't forget to call your agent once you're free," Axl said, completely ignoring my bitching. "He called earlier this morning. Something about your snakes."

He hesitated a moment before giving me a sympathetic smile. He knew how much my pet snakes meant to me, and this was his attempt at trying to be a good friend. It meant a lot, coming from him.

"Are they okay?"

I nodded. "Unless he's calling about a totally unrelated issue, yeah they should be."

My agent, Grant Summers, had only just been hired recently. Ever since the band had started to pick up, everything was changing. Lawyers were getting involved in our personal lives, the media was flocking to all of our shows, and the fans were getting to be almost too much to handle. To help us keep our lives a tad more structured in the wake of the chaos, the record company suggested that we all hire ourselves a team of agents.

Grant was pretty cool, but more nervous than anything else. You could tell that he was constantly in conflict with being a major fan of the band and keeping himself professional. He was a newbie, but I think that just made me like him more. Made it easier to get away with more stuff and fuck with him, anyway.

I was assuming that he had called this morning to schedule a time for me to head back to his office in the near future. With the release of our latest albums Use Your Illusion I & II came promises of bigger concerts, bigger venues, and longer tours. I needed someone to watch after my pet snakes, and I wanted to personally have a hand in choosing who that someone might be. After all, these pets were like my children, and even if I'm not the most responsible person on the planet, I'm at least sane enough to know that you don't just leave your children in the care of total strangers. I wanted to make sure that whoever I chose really knew their stuff. I needed that peace of mind.

"Alright, I'm heading back to check on Duff. See you downstairs," Axl reached down to teasingly pat my head before pushing off of the bed. He waved at me with a mischievous smirk, turned, and headed for the door.

I heaved a sigh, hanging my head in defeat and listening as Steven continued to desperately tear apart my hotel room.

"I haven't found your keys yet, but...what the-what are your sun glasses doing in the toilet?"

It was going to be a long morning.

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