The Wedding Bet (22 page)

Aaron started talking, “Think about it. Who pays forty million to fuck a woman? Only in Hollywood can you get a deal like this.”

Hollywood’s esteem hit a new low for me. I always heard about the casting couch. Girls who went off to make their big dreams of fame on the silver screen come true. At what cost? Was this the cost to Marilyn Monroe?”

“Don’t even think about it, Megan. We’re taking the film rights and leaving.” He stood up.

Peter wouldn’t let the issue die. “Is your Snatchoroozoo, Snatchoroozoo worth that much? That you’d turn down our generous offer. What have you got to lose, Meg? I just want to have a taste of that funny va-jasnack between your legs or rather my penis does.” He turned smiling to Aaron.”

“Now, she’s got the biggest decision to make of her life, Peter.” Aaron tortured me. “Meg, it’s not that hard. A lot of women and girls,” he coughed, “have taken the deal. Some of the highest priced hookers are Hollywood’s most famous names. You won’t believe the list of names.”

“No names, Aaron,” Peter said, cutting Aaron off. It’s a simple deal. Fuck for say, twenty minutes tops,” the aged-looking college professor movie producer said. “And all that money is yours, guaranteed. Guaranteed even if the movie flops. And it’s not going to flop. I’d bet my career on that, Meg.”

I forced my body and brain to unlock. My soul kept saying the scrimpy deal rested on the too low side of the ledger. My brain said the deal made sense. My body said, ‘take the deal’ considering how I got fucked and got nothing but forgotten memories, sexual frustration, wash my dish, and cold shoulders in the morning as the guy had no more use for me in a relationship. Compared to that last argument the answer remained simple.

But I’m not that simple a girl. I love baking cakes, not being famous on the Hollywood screen. I took a deep breath.

“My snatcheroozoo doesn’t do double headers.”

Peter and Aaron stayed quiet for second. Then they burst out laughing.

“Funny. Witty. Snatcheroozoo double headers,” Peter croaked out. “Okay. Just fuck me.” He raised his hands and flashed ten fingers. “Ten minutes tops. Steve can time it.”

“I have a watch timer,” PR Man said.

Aaron laughed.

“Steve what is this? You agreeing with him? Them?”

“I can’t drag you out of here. I’m giving you a chance to make up your mind. If I drag you out of here, I don’t want you regretting it, say if your catering business folds in ten years. Thinking you could have been a millionaire.”

“I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to do anything. I want a simple life.”

Peter said, “No one will ever find out, Meg. What happens in Hollywood stays sealed behind Oscar’s golden lips.”

Aaron nodded.

“That’s not the point,” I stood up. I’m a woman who married myself in a simple ceremony. I can’t have an affair now. I’ll go against my relationship values, small town maybe, but they’re
my
values. Let me think.”

“What’s to think about, Meg?”

“I’m currently on a five day Procrastination Fuck Diet. Takes me five days to decide to do something! But I’ll see if I can speed things up.”

Peter laughs. “Five—” laughs “Five day Procrastination Fuck Diet. She’s needs her own stand up show. She can push Kimmel to the curb.”

Aaron said, “Bring back the funny women I say.”

“Tell you what Peter, since my snatcheroozoo is in such high demand and the cost so astronomical.” I paused. “Why don’t you two go grow your own snatcheroozoo!”

Peter’s jaw dropped open.

Aaron’s, too.

Peter Face grew hard. His steel blue eyes froze open. His chin tightened. Then he softened his eyes to a pillow soft blue. He burst out laughing, knee slapping laughing. “Witty on your feet. She got the wit like I said, Aaron. Go grow my own snatcheroozoo. My own snatcheroozoo,” he laughed long and hard some more.

“Just like you said, Peter. Witty genes flowing all through her hot bod.”

Peter followed up by pulling out a fresh cigar. “You’re breaking my heart, Meg. Not to mention my you-know-whats.”

“Nuts. He means nuts Meg,” PR Man explained.

“Steve you make a great director. You pick up Hollywood lingo real fast.”

“Aaron, I’ve listened to Hollywood lingo in the boys locker-room since junior high. Immature little boys. Talk is all it is. When will you men grow up and show women some respect? Let’s go, Megan.”

Peter made an anguished facial expression like I shot his pet dog, twice. “Happiness, Aaron, comes in different forms to different people. We love money here in the big city. They love themselves in the small cities.”

Aaron concluded, “Really a shame, Peter. I’ll never get to see that other expression on their faces. The wealthy ones.” He looked into his camera.

“A shame. A shame,” Peter said. He rose from his desk. “What can I say? I don’t think I’ll be making the film. It’s funny. Damn funny. But something else will always come along funny. Maybe not this big, but something always comes after, the big sure hits.”

My jaw dropped.

PR Man started to object.

“Don’t Steve. You work for me. The deal is too high a price to pay. Let’s go.”

We left and got on a plane back to Joinrite City. I smiled and laughed with PR Man. “Can you believe having to say everything twice for the rest of your life!”

PR Man brayed. “Hilariously brilliant. I couldn’t find the words to fit this sickening situation. Those fit just right.”

PR Man turned to me and wanted to hug or kiss me or something. I hoped he didn’t because my snatcheroozoo already felt the panged disappoint of being unable to make my body free from any wants and needs for the rest of my life. I just wanted to sit quietly knowing the man next to me didn’t want my body. He just wanted to be a colleague and possibly friend.

“We’ll forget all about this, PR Man. You just wait and see.” I promised.

“Cynthia and Olivia, first I want to say you two are reaching into the bottom of the barrel. A male strip club? Me watching naked men shake their pogo sticks? On second thought, I want to thank you. What better way to get over someone objectifying my body parts than by me objectifying the other sex’s body part.”

“High-five for the Triad!” said Olivia.

All three of us slapped high-fives in the air as we shifted in our seats waiting as the brightly colored spotlights danced on an empty stage.”

“We thought you could use some pampering. Sexual harassment isn’t fun,” Cynthia said.

“No girl needs to have her Va-Ja-Ja priced out of the market of the average man.” Olivia hugged me. “His actions theoretically scarred you forever.”

“You let us know which barrel you want to touch. We’ll call him over here to shake that barrel right in your lovely heart-shaped face.”

Too many things happened at the same time. Cynthia talking about a pogo barrel shaking in my face at my behest and Olivia saying I am a victim scarred for life. “Scarred me.” Now I’d heard everything.

The colored lights moved faster on the wide stage, capable of holding ten adult men. One stripper pole sat in the middle of the stage. Obviously this place really catered to the women strippers. But whatever. I needed to see some fire sticks. The music got louder.

“It’s been two years,” I yelled to them, “Since I’ve seen a cock. I’m overdue.”

Cynthia and Olivia laughed.

Olivia bobbed her head and started clapping her hands like all the other ladies of various ages. “That’s why we stole you away from that baker’s dungeon. You need someone to please you, give you joy.”

“Or you’ll run out of that vivacious smile and that witty humor,” said Cynthia.

“And now without further delay. The Male Review of Joinrite City! Ladies!”

Each of us wore tight blouses that pressed against our protruding nipples and a contrasting short mini skirt for easy lifting.

      “Tempting Tommy Stallion! Ladies!”

The young caramel tanned man tempted me right away. A deep flutter began under my thin, sheer black lace panties. I wanted to touch myself, but settled for letting my eyes do all the absorption. He moved swiftly like a horse, skipping from one area of the stage of the next in his black G string.

“What a package…” Cynthia moaned.

I wondered how Vic understood this night. Maybe Cynthia kept him in the dark. Lying saved many a marriage, I guess.

“I’d love to hold that for ten seconds.”

“Only ten seconds, Olivia,” I joked.

In ten seconds, Olivia could suck him off and make him cream down her throat. We sat in the back. The girls up close already started throwing money at the young Tempting Tommy Stallion. He skipped and galloped to pick up his money. Making sure to turn his tight manly buttocks muscles round and round, toward the frenzied women. Women as old as grandma and even one as old as a great great grandma, who hardly moved, soaked up the energy of Tommy Temptation.

He moved closer and closer to the women. After picking up all his money and flattening the bills stuffing his G-string. He sat down on the great great grandma’s lap. She hardly moved, but her wide smile never tired. Her old blue eyes danced like a sixteen year old enjoying her first crush.

Tommy hopped up to a young woman. She hugged him and he hugged her back. On the third woman, a thirty-year old, she grabbed Tommy and kissed his chest and felt up his crotch.

“I thought I needed a man. Those women are ravenous, Olivia, Cynthia.”

Cynthia waved her hands for Tommy to come back, but Tommy wouldn’t see with the hundreds of hands waving, and their flickering wedding rings blinding us in the back row.

“Let’s hear it for Tempting Tommy Stallion, ladies!”

We all clapped like we won the lottery. Perhaps we did—the erotic lottery.

“All the way from Texas for a limited time, only!

The ten-gallon stud—Texas Oil Drill!”

We all high-fived over his name full of innuendo. Gallons of sperm. The longest oil drill. He came out dancing to cowboy music. He wore cowboy boots, and a bright red G-string that contrasted on his white untanned skin. He wore his big yellow hat covering his eyes looking mysterious and erotic.

We women all said, “ooooooooooh and aweeeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

Then he stopped cold on stage and thrust out his hips. Sending his thick package jumping like a thick bag of gold. He fake fired his hands like six shooters and using his right forefinger lifted the brim of his cap.

Oliva and I about fainted. “That’s Texas from the Speed Date.”

“Who is he,” said Cynthia, because she’d had an extra public relationship project that Saturday.

Olivia said, “Its Megan’s first Speed Dater, Texas!”

I blushed deeply. “If I had seen this side of him before, we might have been dating right now.”

Cynthia and Olivia laughed.

Texas had our full attention as he hollered and hooted. He faked like he was lassoing the women and bringing them to him—when actually he slid his feet in their direction. Texas let the women shamelessly grope his package from the front. He spun through the throngs of trembling females hands caressing his hard hairless chest, and hairy thighs.

“He’s going to make it back here!” Olivia squealed.

I wanted to shout, “No! Stop him.” This is embarrassing. What had I given up?

Texas roped some busty redhead next to our table; then the inevitable happened. His eyes locked to my eyes. He spun around and landed right at our table. Olivia pushed me out into the aisle. Texas grabbed me and ground me close to his package. That sweet hardness, sending the groove under my black lace panties into a melting frenzy.

“Am I any better now as a Speed Date?” He thrust me away, turned around and backed up to my chest. He grabbed my arms and placed them on his eyes as the announcer said:

“See no evil!”

Texas placed my hands on his ears next as the announcer said:

      “Hear No Evil!”

Oliva, Cynthia and the entire crowd of women knew what came next. All of us shouted, as Texas put my hands on his hardening G-string covered crotch:

      “Speak no evil!

For the first time in this year, I started to forget about the bet. I just wanted to sleep with some guy. Rub myself all over then and think about making good decisions in the morning.

Texas let me go and asked to see me later. I almost said yes, as I sat down astonished and the announcer call Texas back to the stage.

Olivia and Cynthia didn’t want to high-five they wanted to smell my hands. The hands that felt the full length, every vein and bulging package of the ten gallon stud—Texas Oil Drill.

The rest of the night at the strip club became a blur. Olivia ended up on stage in only her bra and panties surrounded by five men. Cynthia and I ran up and rescued her before she sucked more than one male stripper’s cock. We all got really drunk on life, on how life with a man never seemed more fun. I almost—almost—wanted to find a real man for good. Someone to have as my own personal oil driller for life. But I thought about Flanders and the expanding catering business. So many things happening, important things. This moment meant a turning point in my business career. I needed to stay on track.