EXCERPT FROM SCAB
The first time we fucked was at the annual Christmas dinner Perry
took all of us out to every year. It was at the Elk club in Sherman Oaks,
off Van Nuys. A restaurant filled with older executive type men that had obtained
broken vessels on the bridge of their noses from their posh studio jobs and
extreme taste for aged bourbon.
A lot of agencies had their Christmas parties here. I was invited only
out of respect. It had been the first and last Christmas dinner I’d attended
before the Hills came tumbling down and Perry’s clientele had been cut in
half and I’d become his newest super star. Perry once told me that they gave
a hell of a discount to the Jewish Hollywood insider man. My response had
been,
“Well, I guess you’ve made the right choice then haven’t ya, Perry. You
old Jew, you!”
Perry didn’t mind off-colored Jewish remarks as much as the last agent I
had back in the early 00’s when all I could muster up from my brain were
sadly constructed teleplays and Disney cartoon pilots. Perry ate meat when he
shouldn’t and had an affinity for graphic novels. Anything went with that guy.
So I went. Clark said they had an excellent buffet. And even though to
him a scrambled egg in Ramen noodle was high class, I figured why not. And
they did have an above average buffet assortment, but the strangest thing
happened while I was at the prime rib table.
I had noticed Ally was behind me in line but had thought nothing of it,
until I started to hear whispers in my ear. Now, Ally doesn’t know that I
have a bit of a deaf right ear going on from DJing in college, and had no
idea what the hell she was saying. So I ignored the whole deal hoping it
would go away, instead pointing out how many slices of prime rib I wanted
from the little Mexican man that was issued the order to serve us white
devils this fine evening. I kept asking him for extra gravy and she kept
rubbing her knee against my testicles from behind. She was sly, probably
because she didn’t want any other potential partners down the road to know
she was scraping the bottom of the barrel by making a play at me. But it was
Christmas, and a girl had to get fucked.
“What are you doing?”
I finally asked, making sure she wasn’t confused by what she was doing.
She stopped immediately and leaned in close, so her tangerine perfumed aura
would expel itself. It was a glorious tangerine odor, I might add.
Her voice had been choppy, and a bit diffused. I think she was in heat.
She said it twice softly but with authority like a congressman who believed
in a proposal and its usefulness to our country,
“It’s business time. It’s business time.”
The Mexican prime rib man just watched, a sly smirk on his lower lip.
I wondered where his non-knife-wielding hand was during the sexual exchange.
When I turned from the Prime Rib station, she was gone. I looked up and saw
the back end of her sundress swoop around the corner. Next to the wall she
disappeared behind was a sign that read LAVATORY. They used big words at the
Elks Club in Sherman Oaks. Made everybody feel majestic, I supposed.
I followed like the wildebeest I was, looking for muskrat or whatever
the fuck those guys consume on the Africa Plain. I swear the Mexican guy was
screaming, andale! andale!
As I slow jogged away from our group, I made the turn around the corner.
Ally was on me. Somehow, I had become the Muskrat, defensive but willing. I
was always the muskrat, dammit.
She pulled me into her lair. The girl’s bathroom. Two women were in
there already, but she was out of control that cold December night. Didn’t
give two fucks. So I followed suit by not giving a fuck either. It was great.
And I was sober, so for once I could enjoy the most amazing thing a guy can
stumble upon: a willing participant.
I took charge of the situation. My cock throbbing beneath the tight blue
jeans I always wore when it came to formal dinner events with an industry
type.
“Excuse me ladies, but it seems to be business time and you two are off
the clock, if you know what I mean” I was grabbing Ally’s left ass cheek with
serious force. I kind of figured she was down with some sadomasochist action.
Shit, the bitch probably had a gag ball in her Dolce Gabana purse if I were
to sleuth. The two ladies, mortified by our blatant display rushed from the
bathroom.
Ally was completely nude before I even had a chance get my belt
unbuckled. She was standing in front of me, sweaty and blistered with sexual
emotion.
“Aren’t you going to put that down mister writer man?” she asked.
“Yea I’m gonna put it down hard, woman!”
I screamed it at her, playing along with her little, Miss Dolly’s Shop
of Sexual Wonder, antics. Then I realized what she was talking about. And it
wasn’t naughty dirty sex talk either. She nodded to my left hand, and I
looked down to review. Fuck me. I had brought the plate of succulent prime
rib with me into the female bathroom.
Being the type of person that tries not to waste any time, I tossed the
plate against the wall, and immediately began discarding of my clothing. My
jeans were thrust across the bathroom into a stall on the end. My shell-white
button down cuffed shirt dropped below my feet into a puddle of urine-water
that had leaked from the stall closest to us. I was in heat. Like a Labrador,
fuck it.
No contemplations of the aftermath, which would be my ultimate mistake
for the rest of the evening. We panted and huffed and scoured each other’s
bodies for seven minutes. She had locked the door, and women were beating on
it like police guards at a correctional facility, the lesbian inmates at it
again. Then it was over. The women eventually went behind the building I
guessed. Luckily they had left, because by the time I made my way back into
the dining room, I had fully reviewed my outfit and was less then pleased
with the image I was now purveying. From a by-stander’s viewpoint I would
have described myself as a conquistador who had just made it back from the
northern Italian revelation, or some fucker who had just fucked his agents
secretary in the woman’s bathroom three days before old saint nick was
scheduled to make his appearance in chimneys across La County. Either way
I was fucked.
Jamie is a fucked sociopath that has hatred he suppresses,
so in the end he doesn’t try to make a large bomb
and ignite it in the middle of a large city.
He loves your essence but hates everything else about you
and expects nothing less of you for him.
Don’t promise, sing, whisper or pray around him unless you mean it
cause he will snatch it up and use it against you in the court of fucked.
