You see Tommy Lee standing over you, tall and slightly lanky with tightly defined, tattood arms and a jaw dark with stubble. He wears a skin-tight white singlet shirt and baggy blue denim jeans, and he stares down his nose at you from under a pulled-down, worn Nike baseball cap. As he shifts to take a drag of his cigarette, one of his piercings glint in the dull hotel room light. A puff of pure white smoke spills from his lips and dissolves in the air. You cough as the irritating smell washes over you. Tommy snickers. His features look sharp and cruel when he smiles, and you can't help but draw your knees close to your chest and huddle in fear. "...Awesome." The rockstar whispers to himself. "I love it when they're snivelling little wimps.." The giant's free hand descends on you, its palm glistening with sweat before it blocks out all of the light. His clammy skin smells bitter and unwelcoming. It smothers your face, forcing you to pull in the rotten odour. When Tommy finally opens his hand, you find yourself..
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