So I wanted to do like a create your own story type thing so here it is. I write a part and you finish it off.

1976
Sweat parties weren't fun. I felt out of place. Robert dragged me along to get laid, make some 'friends' and have some 'fun', and I wouldn't. I'm a loyal, son of a bitch, to my boyfriend, but he probably was doing some girl one of the many bedrooms. Charlie Watts was the only person who I could fûcking talk to in this place!

The Riot House was a rad place for a party though. We got the six highest floors and the roof all to ourselves, and the 250 some guests. The Stones, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Cozy Powell, Roger and Brian of Queen, the Who, you name it along with a gallery of groupies. Most of them were topless or their shirts/bras might count as it. I wasn't one of them.

"Bonzo, thank God." A relieved sigh came out of my mouth as I saw the teddy bear drummer walk towards the couch I was sitting on.

"Mae! Set down your drink and come ride with me."  Knowing Bonzo, my big brother, by ride, he meant motorbike, and he didn't mean outside either.

I set down my half empty Bloody Mary that Keith Richards so graciously made for me, and walked out of the stuffy hotel room, which smelled heavily of hard liquor, cheap perfume and cigarette smoke.

"Hop on her," said Bonzo as he kicked up the stand. The engine of the bike revved viciously, and we rode at a fast speed down the hallway.

"Hell yeah!" I screamed, stretching my arms to the shy. If felt great. My hair was blowing, my worries of the night vanished.  

My brother turned his bike at the end of the hall, after a few laps. "You wanna get off?"

I did, and give him a kiss on the cheek, thanking him before going up the stairs to the roof. It was only two flights. I could deal with it.

The night air, gave me goosebumps, as I opened the roof door. Two men laid there on pillows, looking at the stars, mumbling things back and forth. I walked cautiously on the concrete, to not disrupt the conversation.

"What are you to doing up here?" I sat down, cross-legged, next to the one with a mane of black curly hair.

"Talking." Said one.

"Oh, you're the famous Bonham sister, everyone's talking about. Mae, right?" The other said. I nodded and smiled him. "I'm Charlie Watts."

"Ah, yes. The drummer for the Stones. I love your work, Charlie. It's fabulous." It was honest. I loved the Stones, rhythm and guitar section but Mick is the only one I don't like. 

"Thank you dear. Someone who appreciates my work."  He sounded geunine which made me smile to hear.

I took out the pack of cigarettes from my leather jacket's pocket, and a flip lighter I got from my brother. It was small and I had this bad habit since I was 16. It wasn't like I was born into it or anything, but my friend, Bethany got me hooked. It's the only bad habit I have. No drugs, or problems with alcohol.

Lighting my cigarette, I asked if anyone else wanted one. Brian shook his head but Charlie nodded. "Pardon my reach, Bri." I gave Charlie a lighted cancerstick, and then took a long drag, hiding the pack and lighter in my pocket again.

"So Charlie, how's Ronnie? I haven't seen him here?"

"It's his anniversary with his girlfriend." He sighed. He was probably thinking of his wife, Shirley. I've seen pictures of them together. They're adorable together.

"How's you and Chrissie, Brian?"

"We broke up." He sighed, sipping the bit of drink and hope he had left.

"I'm-" I didn't know what to say, "I'm-"

Finish it off to your liking, as a roleplay.