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Let's Spend the Night Together

Chicago Review Press

Contents

Acknowledgments...............................................................viiIntroduction..................................................................viiiTura Satana Miss Japan Beautiful and the King................................1Cherry Vanilla The Happiest Broken Heart.....................................16Gail Zappa Love at First Sight...............................................34My Lady D'Arbanville..........................................................51The Elusive Miss James........................................................61Cynthia Plaster Caster Kicks.................................................79Dee Dee Keel Hey Little Girl, You Wanna Come on the Bus?.....................101Miss Mercy's Blues Shock Treatment...........................................121Michele Overman Love in Her Eyes and Flowers in Her Hair.....................140Cassandra Peterson The Virgin Groupie........................................157Lori Lightning Absolute Beginners............................................174Sweet Connie There's Only One Way to Rock....................................188Gayle O'Connor Crazy, Crazy Nights...........................................205Margaret Moser and the Texas Blondes Slow Dazzle.............................217Pleasant Gehman Flesh for Fantasy............................................230Bebe Buell A Chat Regarding the Infamous G Word..............................248Patti and Lisa Dangerous but Worth the Risk..................................256Miss B Come as You Are.......................................................273Pleather The Male Groupie....................................................283Lexa Vonn and the Plastics User Friendly.....................................297Sarah Madison Miss You in a Heartbeat........................................318Tina King In So Deep.........................................................330Amanda Milius Let Me Stand Next to Your Flower...............................345Static Beth Size Queen of the Stars..........................................364Epilogue: Cameron Crowe Almost Famous........................................371Index.........................................................................378

Chapter One

Miss Japan Beautiful and the King

When I was barely old enough to discern the dusky difference between the sexes, I dreamed about Elvis. His perfect greasy quiff, smoky cheekbones, and rebellious insouciance defined a generation's desire and made a certain skinny, preteen Valley girl thrill with delight. Years before puberty caught me between the legs, Elvis's unfettered carnal purity gave me a spine-shiver of my destiny. The unsullied wickedness of his wail roused lurking, tamped-down wantonness and created a slippery peephole in immaculate '50s squaredom all over the world. He loosened the screws on the earth's axis, and then greased it up good with pomade.

And the way he danced! Who knew human hips could gyrate like that? I have one of those old-fashioned flip books that shows Elvis revolving across the stage in his gold jacket, his knees at odd angles, his pelvis thrusting forward, arms outstretched, eyes half-closed, sweat glistening danger. Did moving that way just come naturally to the country boy truck driver? I always assumed Elvis came out of the womb with a brand new kind of rhythm. But that was before I met the astonishing Tura Satana-the doll who taught Elvis to dance, onstage and between the sheets.

Back in the '50s when Elvis came into power, the media kept its collective nose out of celeb bedrooms, so we could only imagine what the King got up to under the covers. Years later when word leaked out that he liked to watch two lovelies go at it wearing nothing but white cotton panties, the titillation factor went into high glee. Even at his polyester sideshow Vegas peak, Elvis continued to entrance the masses (and misses), and rumor had it that he dallied with many a fortunate showgirl.

When I decided it was about time music muses got their due and began the search for the formidable damsels featured in this tome, my dream was to begin with Elvis. It did begin with Elvis, after all ...

Ask and ye shall receive, sayeth the Lord. Before I even got the word out that I wanted to meet a babe who had bedded the King, my good pal artist/songwriter Allee Willis invited me to a poolside bash for the cast of Russ Meyer's 1970 cult classic Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Allee always attracts an avant eclectic crew. She's sold millions of records (the Pointer Sisters' "Neutron Dance," and "Boogie Wonderland" by Earth, Wind & Fire), and her uncommon paintings grace the walls of the grooviest L.A. homes. Among the middle-aged campy darlings gathered around the pool in Allee's superbly '50s backyard was the buxom, raven-haired bombshell Tura Satana-the star of another Meyer film, the riotous feminist opus Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!

I was enjoying a boisterous chat with the absurdly ample Kitten Natividad when I noticed my ex, Michael, deep in conversation with Tura. He caught my eye, giving me a look that said, "Get your ass over here NOW!" Michael introduced us, announcing that Tura once held the title of "Miss Japan Beautiful" and had been voted by those in the know as "one of America's Ten Best Undressed" along with burlesque legends Lili St. Cyr and Tempest Storm. How could I not be impressed? I figured the lady must be somewhere in her mid-sixties, and I was inspired instantly by her saucy, free-spirited attitude. Slightly more zaftig than in her Kill days, she wore her weight well, decked out in a low-cut black ensemble with shiny hair down to her ass. Loads of black eyeliner, glossed frosty lips.

"There's something else you should know about the lovely Ms. Satana," Michael said with a gleam in his baby blues, but just then Allee beckoned us to join the fun at the yum-laden buffet table. Several Beyond Dolls were gleefully comparing notes about the size of various actors' members. A showbiz wingding was described in which three Hollywood heroes unzipped and displayed their merchandise on the table for measurement. Since I had often heard one of that evening's participants, Milton Berle, was loaded in that department, I was surprised to discover that a certain A-list film actor came up the winner that night. The Dolls began a rousing competition of their own, shouting out names of the lucky dogs that had shared their various boudoirs. I got into the spirit of things and blurted a couple of my own pertinent headliners. But when Tura slowly licked her lips and growled "Elvis Presley," everybody at the table knew they were licked as well. I looked heavenward through the velvety Valley smog and said a silent thank you, Jesus.

Tura was intrigued by my latest project and warmly welcomed my proposed interview. Since she had dallied with the King, I told her she'd have chapter one all to herself. I had thought about finding a gal who'd romanced Sinatra, but even though he was a master crooner, he wasn't a rock star. At this news, Tura grinned wickedly. "Too bad. I could have been chapters one and two!" Be still my eternal groupie heart!

As the final kicker, Tura opened a notebook and handed me an eight-by-ten...