This is chapter no 1. Don't forget that I have zero experience. Please email me any advice. Thanks.

I was standing on the side of the motorway, just three feet away from a major, internationally recognised and extremely attractive female singer. I’d seen her in plenty of photographs and videos looking absolutely gorgeous. But here she was looking at me with a look of sheer terror on her very pretty face. She turned her head to look at her bodyguard, who was standing immediately next to me and who had a more pleading look that said:

                                        “Are you kidding me? This can’t be happening!”

               Over the years, I’ve met many bodyguards and I’ve seen them in all sorts of situations. But this was the first and only time that I saw such a look of disbelief, horror and perhaps a teeny-weeny bit of panic.

               His boss was standing there looking helpless, with both of her arms extended into the night sky at forty-five-degree angles. Her hands looked comical as she frantically waved them around, probably a bit similar to what she’d been doing just a few minutes earlier when she’d left the stage. But everything was now very different, I thought.

               Because of the noise of the few vehicles that were driving close by, the bodyguard and I both had to strain to hear her as she shrieked:

             “Oh my God. Oh my God. Look what he’s done. What am I going to do?”

               We were looking at the lap and midriff parts of her well-proportioned body. About twelve minutes previously, that same body had left the stage with more than 20,000 of her adoring fans cheering for more. Wow, what a difference a few minutes can make. After leaving the stage, she had been led straight to the limousine where a reporter was already inside and waiting to interview her. We had immediately left the venue in a police escort and in less than four minutes, we were on the motorway. From walking off the stage to 70 miles per hour had taken about six minutes. Because of that, we were probably about fifteen minutes ahead of any of the audience members.

               After hearing her initial screams, I’d stopped the limo in a few seconds. Less than a minute later, the three of us were standing on the hard shoulder of a three-lane motorway. Fortunately, probably because of the hour, it wasn’t that busy. Although we were quite a few minutes ahead of the fans, I worried that a few might have left the concert early. I didn’t want any of them to see the limo stopped on the hard shoulder with two men, one very large (her bodyguard) and the other, very well dressed (me), standing in front of a scantily dressed woman. I didn’t want anybody putting two and two together, thinking Bingo! and then stopping to see what was going on.

             The bodyguard and I both knew that we had to block her from anybody who might recognise her as they were speeding by. If anybody had taken a photograph of this hugely popular singer in the state that she was now in, it’s certain that it would have been uploaded to somewhere online within a matter of seconds. It was said that all publicity was good publicity, but perhaps this was one of those rare exceptions to that rule.

               It was almost 11.00 p.m. and the two motorbikes that had formed the police escort had veered off a few minutes previously, although those officers wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway, at least not as quickly as I was able to. It was all down to me.