That Man 2 (9 page)

I must admit I didn’t resist their sensuous suntan oil massage. These girls knew how to work a man. But while they rubbed and kneaded, I couldn’t stop think about Jennifer McCoy. As I lay face down, a smile crossed my face. She was fucking adorable. She had the singing voice of the next
American Idol
and she was cutest, funniest drunk ever. She was totally obsessed with my cock. But she also made me laugh. Have fun. And yes, get hard. Hard as nails just with her smile. I’d managed once again to have her in my arms. A mere waif, she was so warm and delicious. Carrying to her room, I felt like her prince. And then, when I gently laid her down on her bed, she murmured my name in her stupor. My already hard-as-rock cock jumped. If her friend Libby hadn’t been there with me, I would have kissed those rosebud lips. My Sleeping Beauty. At least, I was wearing her down.

But now, I’d unintentionally fucked things up. Bolting from my chaise and almost knocking down raging mad Kay, I jogged after Jennifer. She was taking angry giant steps toward the hotel entrance.

“Jen, wait up!” I called out after her.

Ignoring me, she quickened her pace. My jog sped up to a sprint. I was able to catch up to her. Gripping her by her shoulders, I stopped her in her tracks. I spun her around, and she faced me squarely. Anger flared in her emerald eyes.

“Let go of me, Blake. I need to get back to my room and pack. I don’t want to miss my plane.”

“Jen, I don’t even know those girls. Honestly. They mean nothing to me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “No girl means anything to you.”

Her words were like knives to my heart. My hands fell off her shoulders. For the first time in my life, I was speechless.

She adjusted the straps of her tank suit and thanked me for releasing her. Her voice was as cold as ice. “I’ll have a topline report of the focus group findings to you first thing in the morning.”

With that, she stormed off leaving me in the dry Vegas dust. Maybe Jennifer and me were not meant to be.

*

Hanging out at the pool was a big, big mistake. Thanks to that regrettably relaxing massage under the hot as balls sun, I’d conked out. Besides fucking things up with Jennifer, I’d overslept and missed my damn plane. There wasn’t another one available until late tomorrow afternoon. So, I was stuck in Vegas for another day. After my fallout with Jen, I checked back into the hotel. Maybe, missing my flight was a blessing in disguise. I could use the time away from my tiger to clear my head and figure out my next move. Our recent encounter had set things back. She simply refused to believe there was nothing going on between me and that trio of blondes.

I moped up to my room and ordered room service. I then texted Jennifer to let her know about my change of plans—that I wouldn’t be back in the office until Tuesday. I eagerly awaited her reply. Zippo. She must already be on her flight back to Los Angeles. Or perhaps she was just ignoring me.

While waiting for my dinner to arrive, I called Vera Nichols, my Vegas affiliate manager. She picked up the phone quickly. Since I was going to be in town for another day, I told her I wanted to visit some of the SIN-TV productions filming nearby. Because of the new California law requiring porn stars to wear condoms, many of our shows had recently moved to Sin City where they weren’t mandatory. It was just as well because filming in Nevada was a lot cheaper than filming in Los Angeles. Vera was extremely receptive to the idea and told me she would pick me up in the morning. I was glad she was coming along. Vera was a great gal and I could use the company.

Room service arrived. I checked my phone. Still no response from Jennifer. After a few bites of my steak, I took a quick shower and went straight to sleep. I was too despondent to jerk myself off.

*

Monday morning, bright and early, Vera picked me up in her red Mustang convertible. Driving at eighty miles an hour, we were out of Vegas in no time, cruising down a newly built highway. At this hour, there were hardly any cars on the road. Vera was taking me to a remote area where many of our shows had set up production. The already warm dry desert wind blew against my face while I soaked in the scenery. I’d never actually been out of Vegas before and was in awe of the beauty of the desert wildlife and rocky terrain. The next frontier, I mused. It was only a matter of time until someone like Steve Wynn laid his stake in this virgin ground and built a brand new strip of luxury hotels and casinos.

“How’s your son doing?” I asked Vera.

“Much better.” She smiled. “I thought he was coming down with the flu but it turned out to be just a twenty-four-hour bug.”

“That’s lucky. I had that flu last week and it sucked.” The memory of Jennifer coming to my apartment and taking care of me flashed into my head. Despite the pleasant temperature, it sent a shiver straight to my dick.

“Kids are such a joy, but they come with so much responsibility. Being a parent is the hardest job you’ll ever love,” she added with a laugh.

“I wouldn’t know.” And, at the rate my love life was going, I might never know. Jennifer, however, was marrying that dweeb dentist Bradley, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a family before long. That fucking anal Dickwick probably had things all planned out. I inwardly groaned.
Operation Dickwick
was sadly at a standstill.

About a half an hour into the ride, my cell phone buzzed. A text. Holding it in my hand, I quickly checked whom it was from. My heartbeat quickened. It was from Jennifer. Two cold little letters responding to my text from last night:
ok.
My heart sank. She didn’t even fucking take the time to capitalize the “o.” So much of me was hoping she would have written something like:
Looking forward to seeing you on Tuesday
. That and a little
xo
.

With Jennifer on my mind and in my heart, I told Vera about her idea for a daytime block targeted at women as well as about the focus groups and erotica book signing. Keeping her eyes on the road, she listened intently. When I was done, she repeated verbatim the words my father had used, “Mommy porn. That’s fucking brilliant.”

I could trust Vera. She was my favorite affiliate manager. In her late thirties, she was strong yet compassionate and didn’t take shit from anyone. Raised by her single-parent mother, an abusive drug-addicted showgirl, she’d managed to get both a college degree and business degree. She was married to a great guy who designed neon signs for Vegas hotels. Tall, blond, and beautiful, she reminded me in many ways of Gloria Zander. I admired her greatly, like I did Gloria.

“Your new development girl sounds like a rare find,” commented Vera as we came upon what looked like a studio in the middle of the desert.

“She is,” I breathed.

For the first time on our drive, Vera turned her head to look at me. “Blake Burns, I detect some feelings in your voice.” She gave me a knowing smile. “Do you more than like her?”

I let out a loud exasperated sigh. “Yeah, I do. I’ve never met anyone like her before.”

“So what’s stopping you, Blake? You know Conquest is pretty liberal when it comes to interoffice affairs.”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

Vera laughed lightly. “Well, Mr. Hook-Up, I can understand that.”

I scowled, but she had a point. “It’s more than that. She’s engaged.”

I expected her eyes to shoot up, but they didn’t. Instead, she smiled warmly. “I never told you this, but I was engaged when I met Steve.”

“Really?” Steve was her beloved husband.

“Yup. It was love at first sight. It took me a bit, but I broke off my engagement with my fiancé whom I realized was not the right man for me. I’ve never looked back.”

My heartbeat sped up, in a good way. Vera had instilled in me some guarded optimism. Hope. Maybe, Jennifer did have feelings for me, but didn’t know to handle them. I mean, at times the electricity between the two of us was palpable. Sparks had flown in the air we breathed. I just needed to figure out how to prove that I was better for her than fucking Dickwick. I thought back to Jaime Zander’s words of wisdom. I needed to romance her. Shower her with compliments. Buy her presents. I bet the cheapskate bought her
bubkus.
I mean, that ring was a total joke. I immediately called my secretary, Mrs. Cho, and asked her to arrange a flower delivery to Jennifer McCoy. A dozen red roses with a note from me.
Thanks for a great job—Blake
But before hanging up, I had an even better idea. I told Mrs. Cho to instead call my mother’s exotic florist and have a large flowering cactus plant delivered to Jennifer’s office. So much more fitting. Phallic. And symbolic. And it would last a lot longer than the roses if Jennifer took proper care of it. Maybe forever.

Vera smiled warmly. “You’re very good, Blake. Don’t lose hope.”

“Thanks,” I said as she pulled into the parking lot of the studio. “What show is this?”

“Private Dick.”
Great. My favorite show on our schedule. I loved the lead character. Oral Covert, the detective with the twelve-inch dick. My mind flashed back to the time Jennifer watched it with me in my office and told me it was
vomiticious.
Her made up word. I laughed silently. And then my cock twitched. Eureka! I just had to prove to her that Dickwick was
vomiticious.
Yes, it was as simple as that. My father always said, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Whatever it took, I was going to find a way. My silent laugh grew evil.

*

The filming of
Private Dick
bored the shit out of me. I had no patience for the constant takes and retakes. Rod Hammer, the actor who played Oral, kept forgetting his lines and lost his erection every time the show went down. Everyone on the set had to sit around while he thumbed through a girlie magazine to get it back up. Jesus Christ. So much for America’s most popular porn star and hero to millions. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Pussy Amour, who played the hooker, Daisy, Oral’s on and off love interest, was a bull dyke who kept complaining about her co-star’s bad breath. In a rage, she threatened the producer, Eddie Falcon, she was going quit if Rod didn’t start using mouthwash.

Jennifer had been right. This show was
vomiticious.
While I’d never had a problem before, I could now barely watch it being filmed. It lacked heart and soul. Just two fucking morons who in real life hated each other. Where was the romance?

The scene that was being shot was particularly challenging for Oral. They didn’t call the character Oral for nothing. The private eye’s favorite way of coming was in Daisy’s mouth. But this scene called for him to come between her planet-sized tits in her heart-shaped, satin-sheeted bed. He had to take the globes in his hands and rub them against his foot-long cock. His “big gun,” as he called it. Both stars were on their knees facing each other.

“You’re hurting me, you fucking asshole!” screamed Daisy.

“Shut up, you fucking dyke!”

“Cut!” screamed Eddie. Neither line was in the script.

Finally, after ten takes, two breaks, and one walk off the set, Oral managed to explode between Daisy’s chesticles. Cum poured down her torso as she arched her head back. The expression on her face was one of pure torture, but those watching the show would think she was in heaven.