The Big Bang! Theory - A fourth--and final--short, erotic encounter of the Judy Banger kind (18 page)

Excerpt:

Judy Banger tugged on the
plunging neckline of her one-piece swimsuit in an effort to contain
the bulging swell of breast into the sculpted demi-cup that had
looked so becoming on the size-1 mannequin. Too bad she was
thirteen or so sizes larger.

She posed before the
full-length mirror attached inconveniently behind the hotel room's
bathroom door. "How do I look?"

"Purple."

Judy sighed.

"I know you think the black
would be better--"

"No," Pru snapped. "I don't
think, Judy. I
know
."

Prudence O'Riley, Judy's
BFF, cut short her Mediterranean cruise to rush home to Judy's side
the minute she learned of the wrongful death lawsuit being filed by
Buddy Fusco's son. Judy appreciated her friend's gesture and
refused to question the uncharacteristic selflessness, but since
Pru's arrival on the scene, Judy's tenuous hold on the situation
had slipped through her fingers like water laced with chicken
fat--down the drain but leaving a tangible ickiness
behind.

"Black conveys danger,
power, death." Pru punctuated each word by advancing forward, the
heels of her thigh-high, five-inch stiletto boots digging into the
carpet. "Purple screams Elton John and dancing dinosaurs. You can't
walk into the sniveling little shit's room, pull out a whip and
expect him to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness when you're
wearing a bright plum one-piece--no matter how cute it looks on
you." She cocked her head. "Have you lost weight?"

"A pound or two...along
with my mind," Judy muttered. A second sleepless night--this one a
result of more qualifying rounds in the Sex Olympics--combined with
a full day of "helping" Jed Blassingame install new flooring in her
bedroom had left Judy in a fugue fog. Gone was the proactive,
take-charge woman who'd conceived this ridiculous, dangerous plan.
A plan any idiot could see was destined to crash and burn in a
blaze of humiliation, regardless of Pru's last minute
tweaks.

Pru grabbed a black satin
and lace bustier from the foot of the queen bed closest to the
bathroom. Judy had resurrected her entire BDSM wardrobe from a box
marked XXX a few hours earlier. "I'm telling you, this is what you
need to wear." Pru shoved the slightly musty smelling object in
Judy's hands. The satin felt cool, sleek and alive. Blush-worthy
memories flitted across the movie screen in her brain. Memories
from one short moment in time.

She held up the top,
pressing the cleverly spaced "bones" against her waist. The square
cut neckline and underwire cups had had men drooling over her
boobs. She'd never felt sexier or more in control of whatever
sex-capades she found herself in than when she wore this
getup.

"But fishnets and a garter
belt put me out on the high wire without a safety net, Pru. If
Lewis calls the police and I'm wearing a swimsuit, I could pretend
I was planning to jump in the pool and
accidentally
wound up in my
late-lover's son's hotel room."

"With a picnic basket full
of sex toys," Pru added.

An annoying burst of acid
etched a trail up Judy's esophagus. She swallowed the bad taste in
her mouth. "Those were your idea, remember? My plan was to throw
myself at Lewis's feet and beg him to drop the wrongful death
lawsuit."

Pru let out a short,
musical laugh. "Yeah, right. Like that's going to happen. I agree
you might have done that if I weren't here, but, girlfriend, let me
tell you, I didn't travel sixteen thousand miles and forty hours--"
Judy rolled her eyes. She often told people the only time Prudence
O'Riley exaggerated was when she opened her mouth. "--to let you
debase yourself before a complete and utter sleezeball. The man
plans to take out all his twisted feelings of inadequacy and
Daddy-never-loved-me shit by crucifying you. Judy. The kindest,
most generous and all-around good person I know."

Pru shook her index finger
back and forth in the air like a prim, old-fashioned schoolmarm.
"No, sirree, Bob. Not on my watch. We have a plan, and we're
sticking to it. Now, dump the pretty purple suit and get into
costume."

The Plan. Judy may have
momentarily considered using Buddy's son's
perceived
deviancy to blackmail him
into dropping the suit, but she'd dumped that idea after spending
the night with Jed Blassingame--her remodeling contractor. Making
love with Jed, who was roughly the same age as Lewis Fusco, had
reminded her that sex was supposed to be fun--not something used
against you in a court of law.

"What if I'm wrong, Pru? I
only met the guy once. Am I one hundred percent certain Lewis likes
an extra serving of pain with his pleasure? No. Do I know for a
fact that putting him over my knee and spanking his bare ass will
give me the leverage I need to make him cease and desist where this
lawsuit is concerned? My gut says yes, but what if that's my hiatal
hernia talking?" She poked a spot just above her diaphragm. Her
pudgy roll did seem a bit less pudgy. Maybe those stupid sit-ups
were working.

Annoyed that she let
herself become sidetracked when her entire future hung in the
balance, she threw up her hands. "This is crazy! I'm going home.
Why did I let you talk me into spending a hundred bucks on this
room?"

Pru sidled into the
bathroom and leaned forward to inspect some imaginary flaw in the
mirror. Her mostly unlined skin reflected a warm, expensive
Mediterranean glow--the sort Judy once paid forty dollars to have
applied in a spray booth. "You know perfectly well that kidnapping
Lewis off the street and taking him to your place--which doesn't
even have a bed at the moment--would be far riskier."

True.
"And kidnapping carries a longer prison sentence."

"Exactly. That's why my way
is our only option."

"Wrong. I could move in
with my mother. Or jump off a bridge."

Pru threw back her
shoulders and turned sideways to eye her still curvy form. Her
weight hadn't fluctuated an ounce in all the years Judy had known
her. "Same difference if you ask me." Their gazes met in the
mirror. "Judy. This is going to work. The fact Lewis agreed to meet
me--a stranger with some vague connection to his father--for a
drink in the hotel bar tells me he's lonely and needy. And, trust
me, I've never met a man I couldn't flatter into believing I
actually wanted to spend time alone in his company. He
will
invite me to his
room. What happens next will be up to you."

Judy eyed the bustier
again. "I was ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter the last
time I wore this."

Pru motioned Judy to join
her at the wide bathroom counter. The artificial glare of the
overhead lights turned the ripe plum color of Judy's suit to
pre-prune. Pru was right. Not sexy enough. "Try it on," Pru said.
"If you spill over, so what? He'll enjoy the peep show. If it
doesn't fit at all, I'll spring for a new one."

Judy palmed the hefty
weight of her bosom with both hands. "My ex used to tell people the
U.S. Postal Service considered giving these girls their own zip
code." She gave the pair a little nudge, which made the flesh
jiggle. "Trust me. You're not going to find an off-the-rack bustier
in my size anywhere in town."

Pru frowned and turned her
attention to her own reflection. "You make me glad I never took
Wallace up on his offer of a boob job."

Wallace?
Boyfriend? Husband? Lover? Plastic surgeon who may
have belonged in all three categories at one time? Judy couldn't
remember. Pru gave new meaning to attention deficit.

"Well, give that one a try,
okay? And please tell me those aren't the spikiest heels you
own."

Judy looked down. Two and a
half toes sporting black nail polish peeked out of the toe-pinching
hole of her ancient pumps. She vaguely remembered buying them at a
discount shoe place for one of Pru's fancy dress galas.

"Not only are these my only
F-me pumps, they pinch. Are you done undermining my
self-confidence...
Mom
?"

Pru shuddered theatrically
and crossed herself, although Judy knew for a fact her best bud
worshipped at the Church of What'sInItForMe?

"Not to worry. I brought
along an extra pair. You're a seven-and-a-half, right? They'll be
great with that getup. Hurry, now," she ordered, executing a
precision perfect about face. "I'm supposed to meet Lewis in ten
minutes, and I want to double-check your provisions."

Before making her exit, Pru
dropped one shoulder to adjust the spaghetti strap of her size zero
dress. From a distance, the material clinging to her ridiculously
fit body looked like ocelot. Up close, the micro-fabric invited
petting. Judy balled her fingers in a fist and focused instead on
Pru's short, messy hairdo. Hip? Yes. Too young for a
fifty-something woman? Definitely. Did it work? Strangely,
yes.

Judy started to close the
bathroom door until Pru chided, "When did you turn into such a
prude? Just change for god's sake."

A command that sounded a
lot like the one Judy's mother said all too often throughout Judy's
life. "When are you going to change, Judy Banger?"
When, indeed?

With a bit more force than
necessary, Judy stripped off her purple suit and donned the various
pieces of black: a G-string made to resemble wet leather, the
bustier, a garter belt, fish nets and, last but not least, a black
velvet choker adorned with faux diamonds.

She sucked in her gut to
tighten the hooks of the corset, which, luckily, was well made.
She'd kicked herself at the time for wasting so much money on a
"recreational" piece of clothing. "You just never know, do you?"
she murmured under her breath as she looked in the
mirror.

Not bad,
she thought running her hands down the noticeable
curve of her waist.
Maybe those workouts
have been helping.
She made a resolution
not to complain so much the next time she went to the gym for a
training session with her fitness guru, Kelly.

After kicking her crappy
shoes into the closet, she walked into the main room to get Pru's
opinion. "How's this? Bad ass?" She regretted her choice of words
when a draft touched her bare derriere.

Pru stood beside the queen
bed where she'd dumped the contents of Judy's XXX box. Sex toys,
tricks of the BDSM trade, a couple of useless VHS porn videos and
other assorted goodies lay scattered as if shot from a freak
cannon.

"Much better," Pru said
looking up. "Gorgeous. Sexy. Perfect."

Judy snorted. "For a
middle-age, over-weight woman, you mean."

Pru ignored the comment and
handed Judy a shoebox.

"Here. These, as the
retired southern gentleman I left in Greece would say, are the
coottie-graws." Her wink said the butchering of the French
pronunciation was intentional. "Five-inch platforms
with--"

"Diamond-encrusted ankle
bands," Judy exclaimed. "Holy shit. You've got to be kidding. I'll
kill myself in these."

"You'll be fine. They're
platforms. I wore them every day on the ship."

Every day? What kind of
cruise was this?
Judy almost asked.
Instead, she zipped the cleverly designed cuff in place and stood.
To her shock, the shoes were more comfortable than they looked, and
once she got her balance, she managed to walk without twisting an
ankle. "Being taller is cool. They're empowering. Were they as
expensive as they look?"

"Don't ask." Pru checked
her watch. "I should be going soon. By the way, I brought you a
coat, too. You can't wear that pilled jersey robe you call a
cover-up with a getup this sexy."

She pointed at a
calf-length, belted, black leather trench coat draped like a
boneless leopard across a nearby chair. Judy sent it a token
glance.

As if I could fit into
Pru's Barbie clothes. My cover-up's not that bad
. "So, what do you think of my selection of goodies?
"

Pru picked up the riding
quirt and whipped it back and forth for effect. The silvery hissing
sound made the hair on the back of Judy's neck lift.

"This isn't bad, but half
the tassels are missing. Did a mouse gnaw on it?"

Judy shrugged. "Shouldn't.
I have a cat."

"Who is lazy and overfed,
apparently."

She tossed the little whip,
which Shawn pretentiously had insisted on calling a
tawse,
toward what Judy
assumed was their "keeper" pile. If anyone asked her ex the meaning
of the word, Shawn would launch into a windy discourse on Scottish
schoolmasters and corporal punishment--acts Shawn had demanded from
their lovemaking more and more often before they split. One of the
last things she clearly remembered him saying as he bent her over a
chair was, "Prepare yourself, woman, as I chastise you with my God
rod."

"My basket's a cool idea,
though, isn't it?" Buddy had ordered the gift online from a store
way outside Judy's price range. It had come packed full of
specialty treats and culinary goodies they'd shared over the course
of several "dates."
And now I'm using it
to transport sex toys to his son's hotel room.
The thought probably should have upset her more than it did.
But the fact remained: if Buddy hadn't taken a little blue pill
against his doctor's advice and clocked out of life while having
sex with her, none of this would be happening. So, in a way, this
was all Buddy's fault, not Judy's.