Counseling Ch. 03byAchtungNight©
Counseling; Chapter 3,
an erotic tale by AchtungNight.
Celebs: Evan Rachel Wood, Jodie Foster (lookalike).
Codes: FF, oral, romance, voy.
Standard disclaimer- This story is a satirical fantasy. It is fictional, even though its plot and characters are based on real events and people. All characters based on real people are fictionalized. All celebrities in the story are impersonated — poorly. I, the author, have no actual connection to any celebrity mentioned in this story other than being their fan, and I acknowledge that they do not act in real life the way my characters based on them do. I did not write this tale for financial profit and I expect none from it. This story contains controversial adult themes and situations, so it should not be read by those who are close-minded or under age 18.
Intro: Hello, readers. This tale is my tribute to celebrities and other people who need to get their minds fixed up, and their lives straightened out. It is a satire, like all my stories. All opinions expressed by the themes are mine. If you disagree, that is your right and I hope you will excuse me. If I am not as familiar with my subjects as I should be, please correct me if you are more knowledgeable. Any mistakes in this story that were not caught by my editor and other advisors are my responsibility.
There are references to other art in the story. The mentions of the nudist camp "The Pines" and its patrons appear with permission from author Nick Scipio. Writer KMB allowed me to include a nod to his "Harem" series (which takes place in a separate but connected universe from my own celebrity fanfiction). I give my thanks to these great artists for letting me plug their writings. I also credit Greg Weisman, John Kovalic and the creators of all the other works mentioned in the text. I don't own any of these people's conceptions and I did not contact any artist other than KMB and Nick Scipio for prior advertising assent. However, all these artisans' labors inspire me. I hope they and their fans will appreciate the ways I have paid them homage here.
In my series timeline, you can consider this tale the bridge between "Passion of Erika Christensen" Chapters 4 and 5. I would call it a "Passion" chapter, but Erika is not the lead of the story. She's just one of many important characters. I also want to do a sweeping summary to bring her into the present. Therefore, I have put this story outside the main "Passion" arc. You can call it "Passion 4.75" ("The Rendezvous" being 4.25 and "Rekindled" being 4.5) if you must. No other text should be required reading, though as usual my other stories are connected to this. "Counseling" is also one of my longer works, so I have broken it into four chapters for reader convenience. I recommend everyone read the chapters in order.
One additional note — the villain in this tale is a character I have tried to introduce before. She can be held in check no longer and my heroes need to face her. People like this woman and her associates exist and are the reason certain celebrities are distrusted by their potential fans. I feel this needs depiction. The villain in question has been retooled for her role. If all goes well, we will be seeing her again for further conflicts. She is a figure whom I believe fits the part I have given her, like all my characters. I'll let the tale itself speak further as to whom she is.
Please let me know if you like or dislike this story. I appreciate any feedback I am sent. I haven't been getting nearly enough feedback of late and would like that to change.
Counseling, Chapter 3.
Los Angeles, California. November 30, 2008.
"May I see your invitations, please?"
"Invitations?" the tallest of the strange trio replied. "We don't need no stinking invitations!"
The two heavyset guards standing in front of the gate in the fence surrounding Marilyn Manson's Beverly Hills home exchanged frowns. The one on the right, Andy, was dressed as Frankenstein's Monster. His partner, Barney, was in a mummy outfit. Andy nodded at Barney and then turned back to the trio of men at the gate. "If you don't have invitations, you can't get in."
"I told you!" was the reply. "We don't need invitations!"
Barney grimaced as he looked over the three. I might not let these guys in even if they did have invitations, he thought. I've been watching them. They're not in costume and that's the theme of our employer's party tonight. Everyone standing around these guys is dressed properly and ready for the gathering, but they're not. They're also among the most suspicious people I've ever seen in two decades of working security for celebrities in Los Angeles, New York and everywhere in between. Something about them just gives me a bad vibe.
The three men were Caucasian and dressed well in pressed black T-shirts, jeans and garish plaid sports jackets. Other than that, they looked very dissimilar. The one who had spoken was tall and lean with a long face and thin blond hair. He wore a red coat and held an energy drink can in one hand. Barney had seen him take many sips from the drink while standing in the long line outside the mansion. The mummy guard dubbed this character "Stretch."
Stretch's first accomplice was a short fellow with features like a rodent. His nose and eyes were sharp and his black hair was knotted and thick. A horrible smell emitted from his body. He constantly took unwrapped beef jerky bits from his blue jacket's pockets and chewed on them, ignoring the awful effects this had on his image and breath. It was because of the stench that Barney thought of him as "Stinky".
The third man was of medium height but very obese with a dark brown flattop and beard. He grinned at the people around him, showing shark-like teeth. His lips, fingers and green coat were very greasy. Barney guessed that "Fatso" ate too much fried junk food and wiped his face on his sleeves.
Who are these guys? Barney wondered, looking them over again. He noticed some other common features among the trio now. The three moved rapidly, sometimes even jerking about and jogging in place when they stood at ease. In addition, they all wore unfamiliar eight-limbed crosses on pendants around their necks and had their coat pockets stuffed with pamphlets that read "Dianetics" at the top. Scientologist cult Cylons, Barney realized. We definitely don't need their scum.
"You may not get in without invitations," Andy informed the trio a third time.
"Hey!" Stretch shouted. "I told you —"
"Silence, brother Bean," Stretch's short odiferous associate said and then stepped forward. "Look, you officers are obviously very good at your jobs," Stinky hissed, looking from Barney to Andy and back again. "We appreciate that. My brothers and I forgot our invitations, but we have good reason to be here. This is Marilyn Manson's party, is it not?"
"Yes, but no one gets in without invitations," Barney said. He decided to taunt the suspects a little himself and see what happened. "Especially not people like you."
"What?" Stinky raised his eyebrows and noticed the guards' eyes on his pamphlets. "Oh, is it this?" He fingered his pendant. "You let Catherine Bell in a few minutes ago!"
"She had an invitation," said Andy. "You don't."
Catherine Bell is also one of the Scientologists I can tolerate, Barney added to himself. She's a very pleasant person, doesn't proselytize her beliefs unprompted and exudes no sinister feelings. These three on the other hand ...
Fatso came close to the guards and said, "Look, guys, if you didn't know, Marilyn Manson is converting to Scientology. We're here to spread the word to his guests."
"Manson is converting to Scientology?" Andy directed raised eyebrows at Barney. "I haven't heard anything about that!"
"Me neither," Barney said. "Then again, we were only hired yesterday. You better call Mr. Fox."
Andy nodded and moved away from the trio, raising a radio to his lips. Barney kept his eyes on the three dubious men while his partner contacted their supervisor. The trio continued to make arguments for their permission to enter, punctuating their pronouncements with insults and rising fervor. Barney returned their words with only a blank stare. After a few minutes, the three stopped trying to bait him and looked at each other.
"Damn," Stretch, or Bean, said. "This pig is good."
"Maybe Jessica was right," whispered Stinky. "She said that Manson was a lost cause. The Chairman of Scientology told her we need to quit doing things like this."
"That moron needs to stop changing our procedures!" Fatso spat. He turned back to Barney. "Look, rent-a-cop, tell Manson we're here. He'll welcome us."
Barney glanced towards his partner, who was putting his radio back on his belt. "Well, Andy?"
"Mr. Fox told me just what to do with these guys," Andy said. "He knows them very well." The Frankenstein's Monster guard grinned and then addressed the suspicious men. "You may not enter the mansion. Our client told us not to admit you."
"We aren't going away!" Fatso declared. "You can't make us leave!"
"Fine," Andy said with a shrug. "If you want to stand out here and wait, you can do that. I have a feeling you will be waiting forever."
Tall Bean, stinky Bunce and Fatso looked at each other. After sighing, they turned and cantered off, grumbling amongst themselves. Andy watched them leave and then faced Barney. "Did those guys remind you of Roald Dahl at all?"
"Not a bit," Barney replied with a shrug. "I saw them more as the bad ghosts from those 'Casper' movies or maybe Donald Duck's nephews."
After sharing a chuckle with Barney, Andy waved at the next people in line. "Ah, Ms. Leah Remini. Welcome. Mr. Angelo Pagan, welcome to you as well. Barney and I have done security for your friend Jennifer Lopez several times, if you don't remember. We're working for Manson tonight. Can I see your invitations? Thank you. Please ignore the way we just treated your fellow Scientologists. We have cause to believe that not everyone in your church is a good person like the two of you are. Oh, you know those guys? You agree with my partner and me about them? Okay, thanks." The guards stepped aside and let the celebrity couple dressed as a zombie Fred and Wilma Flintstone pass.
Farther back in line, a frumpy brunette woman fidgeted, adjusting her glasses and smoothing her hair. "Do you think I make a good Daria?" she asked the blond weasel-faced werewolf standing beside her. Nadine Holliday wore a green sweater vest and black skirt. She and two other tabloid journalists were assigned to infiltrate Manson's party at the last minute. Her favorite angst-filled MTV character was the quickest costume Nadine could rustle up.
"You look great," Gary Parker, the werewolf, replied. He wore a full-length fur outfit with fangs and makeup instead of a mask. Gary was hoping that no celebrities or party security would recognize him from his TV appearances. Or maybe I don't care if they do, Gary thought with a shrug. If they throw me out, it will still be a decent story.
The third reporter in their party, Baxter Page, was a middle-aged hippie with long brown hair and beard. Outfitted in typical Goth attire like most of the crowd around them, Baxter had several disfiguring marks on his face. "You guys really should have dressed better," he told Nadine and Gary. "Do you want someone to know who we are?"
"You're not wearing a very good costume either," Gary pointed out.
"No, but I have on fake scars and piercings. Do you honestly think anyone is going to peg me as the perfect gentleman I usually am on the air? Damn it, you two!" Baxter waved his hands and then looked away, focusing on the crowd. "At least there should be many good stories here," he said. "You see that guy who just walked through the gates disguised as a mad scientist? That was Jack Nicholson."
"The original Joker?" Gary asked. He looked towards the mansion entrance and nodded. "Yeah, that was him."
"I spotted Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie farther back in line," Nadine said. "Jennifer Aniston and John Mayer were about twenty people ahead of us. If those two couples meet up tonight, it could be fun to watch the fireworks."
"I thought you didn't like recording celebrity troubles, Nadine," Gary said.
"I don't mind a good spat. I just don't want to be the one that starts it. I got into this business to win friends."
Fat chance of that in our line of work, Gary thought but did not say. He looked around the crowd, trying to spot more famous faces. Manson had made it known that he was collecting donations tonight for a campaign to overturn the recent ban on homosexual marriage in California. Thus a large number of celebrities and others were attending his gathering. One or two hundred people outside all together, Gary counted. Perhaps three hundred more if you add security and other hangers-on. There's got to be at least that number within the mansion too. I see a few of our colleagues on the street behind the fence, taking notes and snapping away with cameras. They won't be going inside the house, though. Nadine, Baxter and I will.
He removed the invitation from his pocket and showed it to the guards, who nodded and stepped out of his way. I wonder how our boss Ted Pinkerton got us invited here, Gary thought as he watched Baxter and Nadine admitted past the gate. It seemed almost too convenient. He also provided us concealable microphones and digital video recorders disguised as reflective buttons. I don't know where Mr. Pink acquired such technology. He's handed out spy gadgets before, but these are very sophisticated. I hope they work right.
"You think Lindsay Lohan will be here?" Gary asked Nadine, recalling a recent interview they had done with that actress.
"Probably not," Nadine answered. She smiled at some Goths who hummed "La, la, la, la, la" as they walked past her. "Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson are in Europe right now. We talked to Lindsay right before they left."
"Oh yeah," Gary recalled with a sigh. He regretted that he could not interrogate Lindsay further about her confessed bisexuality or her declining career.
"Keep your minds on what we're going to be doing here tonight," Baxter ordered his co-workers. "Don't go looking for specific people. Just wait and watch what happens. If we're lucky, we'll get something Ted will enjoy hearing. If not, at least we tried."
"If somebody recognizes us, be nice," Nadine suggested. "Tell them we're not on the job. Wait, do you think they'll believe that?"
"No, probably not," Baxter answered with a sigh. He looked around the courtyard and felt relieved that no one was paying attention to them.
I wonder if my allies in the Friendship society are here yet, Baxter thought. I called and warned Viceroy Doug Ramsay that we'd be coming. Our boss is also a Viceroy, so we couldn't get out of this assignment. Doug said he understood and had already dispatched his own infiltrators. Like us, they're charged to ascertain the current state of Marilyn Manson's girlfriend, actress Evan Rachel Wood. I doubt we'll be working with these other spies but I hope they at least won't work against us. Never mind, Baxter. Keep your eyes on the game.
Gesturing at Gary and Nadine to follow him, the hippie journalist headed towards the mansion's front door. His colleagues walked alongside, checking out faces and noting those they knew. Their hidden cameras and microphones were taping away. None of the three reporters saw the burly balding actor dressed as his "Sin City" character admitted to the party a few minutes after they entered the mansion.
"It's great to see you here," Barney said.
"Thank you," Mickey Rourke replied. "It's great to be seen."
Inside the mansion, Jodi Lee Nichols and Asher Stravjan were already in place amongst the crowd. There were almost as many Goths and other costumed people inside as outside. All were enjoying themselves while music played and drinks got served. The music was mostly that of the mansion's owner, of course. Marilyn Manson had also inserted songs by Nine Inch Nails, KISS, the Sisters of Mercy and other Goth metal groups. Jodi Lee didn't often listen to such tunes but now she was finding herself liking them. The raw vibe and emotion of the beat sounded in her brain and the words sparked memories of wonderful things she had done with guys and girls. I wish I had known there was so much sex in Goth rock before, Jodi Lee thought. Maybe I would have had a better opinion of it.
"Hey!" a very drunk guest said, beaming at Jodi Lee and Asher. "Jodie Foster! Clint Eastwood! I thought I saw you both leave five minutes ago!"
Jodi Lee raised her eyebrows and looked at Asher. Should we correct this guy that we're only lookalikes? Jodi Lee asked in sign language
No, the albino mute Asher answered in the same. It does not matter if he thinks we are people we are not.
Jodi Lee shrugged and nodded at the drunk as he stumbled off. "I thought there would be drugs here," she said, looking around. "Aren't Goths supposed to be into heroin and cocaine?"
You expect them to explore such habits in the open? Those habits are more rumor than reality, Jodi Lee. I thought you said you were going to drop your preconceived notions.
"Sorry," Jodi Lee replied. She looked at herself in a mirror on the wall. The Australian agent was dressed as a fantasy Amazon with her dark copper hair piled into a beehive and makeup accenting her sharp freckled face. A brown imitation leather bustier and skirt completed the ensemble. Asher had disguised himself as a grinning ghoul, a blue-skinned undead cannibal with ragged clothes and yellow fangs. He waved his clawed hands at people who complimented him on his costume.
"Far out, man," a moping Goth said as he drifted by.
Thank you, Asher signed in response. He did not care that most of the guests could not interpret his movements. Have you seen Friend Evan yet? Asher asked Jodi Lee.
"No," the other Friendship agent said. Jodi Lee sipped her virgin martini. "I keep looking for her trademark blonde hair and then I remember that like everyone else here she's probably hiding herself."
I concur. Perhaps we should split up and look for her separately.
"All right. Why don't you see if some of these people can understand you? I've heard there are disabled Goths and homosexual ones also. Maybe you can make a new friend with benefits or two tonight."
I am too professional for that. I could show these people some juggling or acrobatics, though, if it would not attract too much attention.
"Do that," Jodi Lee suggested. I don't think you'll have much problem drawing attention here, she added to herself. I see quite a few celebrities around us exhibiting shocking behavior. That old man in the mad scientist outfit is Jack Nicholson, one of the greatest actors to ever play the Joker and the Wolf Man. He's got two twenty-something Goth girls on his arms and they both look extremely intoxicated. Do I have to speculate what Jack plans to do with those girls?
I also see many celebrity couples dancing and making out in the room, homo- and heterosexual. There's Ellen DeGeneres embracing Portia de Rossi and there's Jennifer Aniston waltzing with John Mayer. The former couple is dressed as the witches Willow and Tara from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and the latter couple is impersonating the young stars of that new vampire film "Twilight". And there's George Takei with his gay partner. They're kissing and costumed as Sulu and Wesley Crusher from "Star Trek". I also see Wanda Sykes over there dressed as Elvira hugging some other black woman dressed in drag as Drizzt the dark elf. Hmm.
Wait a second. That couple over there disguised as Devil Ned and Warrior Angel Maude Flanders. The chubby blonde and the rangy man with the mustache standing near the front door. Is that Candace Cameron and her hockey player husband? No way, it can't be. Candace Cameron is a famous evangelical Christian. What would she be doing at a party hosted by a well-known Satanist high priest?